The Trip
by JamesLuver
Summary: John and Anna, along with their children, take a trip to Ireland.
1. The Journey

**A/N:** For **theglamourfades**. Happy Birthday! I'm sorry I couldn't get this finished on time for you. Still, I hope you enjoy it...and at least you have the rest to look forward to? :P Seriously, you are a wonderful friend and a true inspiration to me. Your writing style is beautiful and something that I look up to so much. I am so very very pleased that you're on board this ship.

When I asked her, TGF simply stated that she'd like something fluffy and smutty, with a St. Patrick's Day twist. I am endeavouring to achieve this. :P

**It's rated T, but only for now. It will be going up to M later on.**

**Disclaimer:** I have as much chance of owning Downton Abbey as Matthew does of coming back from the dead.

* * *

_The Trip_

_1. The Journey_

John Bates smiled contentedly to himself as the rocking motion of the train lulled him gently into light-hearted thoughts. Against him, her head nestled into the crook of his neck, Anna slept, her breath rasping gently and blowing against his neck. She was a warm weight against him, and he curled his arm more protectively around her. He couldn't see her face because her hat was obstructing him, and it was digging rather irritatingly into his chin, but he didn't dare move for fear of disturbing her. In any case, he was perfectly comfortable.

There was a warm weight snuggled against his chest, too, and he allowed his eyes to travel down to lovingly regard the curly mop of hair that was tucked snugly beneath his chin. John smiled. His youngest daughter was sleeping contentedly across his lap, her little legs dangling between his, one tiny thumb plugged into her rosebud mouth, the other hand curled in the material of his waistcoat. The clean smell of her hair wafted into his senses.

Sprawled on her belly on the seat opposite them was their eldest daughter. Her blonde hair was fanned out across the seat, one of her arms curled under her cheek. The other dangled over the edge. And, slumped against Anna's side, was their son. John couldn't crane his neck to see him, slightly cumbered by Anna, but he knew that his little face would be scrunched, as if he was concentrating hard in his sleep. Anna always said that he was too like his father, but there was a fond twinkle in her eyes whenever she thought it, obviously taking delight in seeing their boy as a mirror of her husband.

John sighed in absolute contentment. He had never known such peace in his entire life. And it was all down to the four people sleeping in the train compartment with him. They were perfect, his little family. He couldn't have wished for more. Three well behaved children. And a wonderful wife to share all of his life with. He was sure that if there was a God, it was His way of telling him that he had atoned for past mistakes.

The train whistled and, across from him, his eldest daughter stirred.

"Pa?" she said sleepily.

"Yes, love?"

"Are we nearly there yet?"

John couldn't reach for his pocket watch to check the time, but the green fields were giving way to scruffy looking buildings. "I think so. We shouldn't be more than fifteen minutes."

The little girl pushed herself up into a sitting position. Blue eyes blinked owlishly at him. "Should we wake Mummy?"

"Let her have five more minutes, Martha. She's been very tired recently."

Martha nodded seriously, rubbing her eyes. Then she shuffled along the seat to peer out of the window curiously. John regarded her lovingly, watching the way that her long hair caught the late afternoon rays of sun. She was the absolute mirror of her mother, everybody said so. John didn't mind in the slightest.

"_Why would I want her to look like me when she looks like you?" _he'd said one night not long after her birth, gathering Anna up in his arms as she'd gently nursed their daughter. _"She's had a lucky escape, if you ask me."_

The comment had earned him an apparently well-deserved smack on the arm for needless self-depreciation, but John was still thankful that Martha had turned out more like Anna.

"Pa?"

He was shaken out of his thoughts once again by his daughter's sunny voice. "Yes?"

"Tell me about Ireland."

He chuckled. "Haven't you heard enough about Ireland?"

"No! I want to hear it again!"

"I have limited knowledge, love."

That didn't deter Martha in the slightest. She was at an age now where everything was exciting and new. When he and Anna had told her that they would be taking a short trip over to Ireland to visit one of John's cousins, she had been almost beside herself with excitement. She had insisted on hearing stories about Ireland every night before she went to sleep. Anna had joked that John had only made her anticipation worse. His tales about unicorns and faeries in the woods (the latter sounding suspiciously like Anna herself) had only made Martha even more enthusiastic for the trip. The twins, of course, didn't really understand what was going on, but they had still joined in with their big sister when she had been in a particularly excitable mood, toddling about on plump legs and shrieking.

Luckily, however, John was spared the job of having to repeat whatever tale that Martha wanted to hear yet again, because the train finally seemed to be slowing down. Peering out of the window, he could see that the pretty green fields had been completely replaced by cold, grey buildings.

"We're almost here now," John told her. "Do you want to wake your brother?"

Martha nodded eagerly, sliding from her seat to squat on the floor in front of him. John grimaced. She was going to get dirt all over her pretty little dress, and Anna wouldn't be very pleased about that. Still, there was nothing he could do about it now. Martha was reaching out a tender hand to gently rub it across her brother's cheek – something she had seen her mummy do countless times – and John turned his attention to his second daughter.

"Grace," he coaxed gently, "Grace, my love, we're almost here. Are you going to wake up now?"

The little girl grouched a little at being woken, turning her face into his jacket and pushing her forehead accusingly against his chest. John kissed the silky hair on top of her head consolingly, juggling her gently on his knee. The whine of her twin was what ultimately roused her, and she pushed herself away from her father's chest to peer blearily around her mum.

"There?" she said to her father.

"Almost. Will you get down a minute, just so I can wake your mummy?"

Grace slid from his lap clumsily, clinging to the side of the seat as the train juddered beneath her feet. John groaned silently and stretched his right leg in relief – it always cramped horribly when he held it in the same position for too long – and then gently removed his arm from around Anna's shoulders. At the movement, she shifted closer to him, her warm breath blowing against the side of his neck. He shivered at the feel, then gently brought his hand up to stroke against the side of her neck.

"Anna," he said gently. "We're here, love."

"Five more minutes," she mumbled, nuzzling her head into his neck.

From below, Martha giggled, reaching up to tug on her mother's skirts. "Come on, Mummy! We're going to Ireland!"

Reluctantly, Anna pulled herself away from John's shoulder, managing a sleepy grin at the three eager faces below her. "Oh, all right. I'm awake."

"You don't say that to me when I tug at you," he murmured playfully in her ear, and she swatted him, blushing.

"Little ears," she reminded him.

"What do you mean, Mummy?" Martha asked brightly, wobbling a little as the train came to a decided stop.

"Nothing, baby girl," said Anna, shooting her husband a significant look.

He smirked easily at her, watching as she pushed herself to her feet and bent down to stroke her hand gently over all three of her children's heads. They could hear loud activity in the train's corridor, and John stood to begin to collect their bags in one hand. Anna herself was busy clasping her hands in each one of her daughter's.

"James, hold on tight to Martha," she told their son. "Martha, don't let him go."

"I won't, Mummy," said Martha brightly, and John felt an unexpected stab of shame. He wished that he didn't have to use a cane. He could have taken responsibility of his son then, instead of entrusting it all to their four year old.

But Martha was gripping hold of her little brother's hand tightly in her spare, and there was nothing he could do to change the past. Pushing his guilt away, he worked open the compartment door for Anna, and she jostled the children out. He followed close behind, paying close attention to his son, who had the tendency to get distracted easily. Anna expertly kept all of the children in line as she moved towards the exit. Once there, John slipped in front, moving down onto the platform and setting their luggage down by his feet as he reached back inside. He took Grace in his arms first, lifting her down to the platform beside him, then reached back for Martha. His knee protested warningly, but he gritted his teeth and persevered as he repeated the motion. He hated the fact that he was struggling to lift her nowadays, when she was still so young. He repeated the action for the third time with James, and held him in his arms until Anna had stepped gracefully off the train. Once they'd reassembled themselves into a line, they began to push their way through the crowd.

"Mummy?" shouted Martha. "Will we see the unicorns today?"

She laughed, squeezing her hand affectionately. "We're not in Ireland yet, my sweet. Remember? We need to get on a big boat first."

"Oh." Martha's frown was pensive. "How long will that take?"

"When you wake up in the morning, we'll be nearly there."

Martha nodded, and fell silent again. They emerged out onto the street in front of them, and Anna stood away from the curb while John flagged down a taxi. The man who stopped for them was grumpy, with a thick Liverpudlian accent that Martha declared loudly that she couldn't understand, much to the mortification of her parents. He didn't seem to take offence – not that they could be certain, because his face expression did not change – and Anna bundled herself and the children into the back while John took the front. He was informed that they were only twenty minutes away from the docks. The driver didn't seem inclined to offer more than that, so John settled himself back, contenting himself with listening to the happy noises of his family. James and Grace were squabbling over the seat nearest the window, even though they were settled now; Anna chided them both, saying that neither of them would be sitting near the window in future, and John couldn't help but smile at it all. There were imperfections in their family, of course there were, but these imperfections only made him love them all more. Martha had the tendency of saying things without understanding the consequences of them, and Grace sometimes had the incredibly irritating habit of sneaking into her parents' room at night, letting them know with her limited vocabulary that she was too scared to sleep – it could happen so unexpectedly that he and Anna had been forced to start redressing themselves after they had made love, just in case she chose to walk in. Even more frustrating, their lovemaking had been reduced to short, heated fumbles, one eye always on the door. John had firmly decided that they should invest in a lock for their bedroom door so that they could at least make love in relative peace, although they hadn't managed to put that particular plan into motion just yet. James was prone to long instances of quietness – too much like his father, Anna would accuse him playfully again. But these little quirks were what made up each individual baby in his family, and he was in awe of them all. Quite how he had managed to help create something so perfect, he would never know.

The motor soon pulled up into the docks, and John paid the driver quickly, moving around to pull their bags free as Anna assembled the children in a line.

"Now," she said gently, "it's absolutely imperative that we stick close together, all right? You don't want to get lost now. Not when we're getting on the boat. You might end up in America."

"America?" Martha's eyes brightened at once. "Mr. Barrow used to tell me about America!"

Anna and John exchanged a look.

"Oh, he did, did he?" said Anna. "And what delightful stories was he telling you?"

"About how they eat children!" said Martha, swiping impatiently at a strand of blonde hair. Contrary to what her parents might have thought, she seemed fascinated by the possibility, not scared. "Would they eat Grace and James, Mummy? Would they eat _me_?"

"Of course not," said Anna. "Honestly, that's ridiculous. Americans don't eat children."

"It looks like I'll be having a little chat with Mr. Barrow next time we're at Downton," John grumbled. "That man is asking for a smack, filling our children's heads with such notions."

"Yes, but you will not be the one to give Mr. Barrow a smack," said Anna warningly, catching hold of Grace's hand. "Martha, keep a tight hold on your brother again."

John sighed. "I know, I know. But just for once it would be nice to give him a jolly good –"

"_John!"_

He bit his tongue and quietened. He knew that he shouldn't speak of violence in front of the children. He was raising them better than that. Still, Thomas Barrow had been a constant source of irritation over the years. Even now, when they no longer worked in Downton, he was managing to be a pain.

He was roused from his thoughts by one of Anna's pointed looks, and he cleared his throat, beginning to lead them through the throng of people.

"Our boat?" he heard James ask brightly, pointing a little finger towards the huge ship dominating the docks.

"I'm afraid not," laughed Anna. "That's a ship, not a boat. We only need a little one to get to Ireland."

"Oh," said James, pouting a little. "Look?"

"They wouldn't let us on board without a ticket, son. And if we don't get to ours soon, it'll leave without us. And then we'll just have to go back home and write to your pa's cousin to tell her that we couldn't make it. And then she'd be so disappointed. She's looking forward to meeting you."

"And you," John called over his shoulder. "You're somewhat of a mysterious figure!"

Anna blushed a little. "Anyway, we'll take you to look around our boat tonight. Would you like that?"

James nodded, grinning widely. The look always took Anna's breath away. No matter how John protested, wanting to see as much of Anna in all three of his children, it couldn't be denied that both of the twins resembled him more. Dark haired and dark eyed, they had inherited some of Anna's characteristics – her nose and the shape of her eyes – but everything else about them screamed their father. Anna secretly loved it. John might have loved seeing her in their children, but she loved seeing him in them just as much.

At last, they reached the boat that would take them over to Ireland. There was a little line of people ready to file aboard, some clutching at young children, most simply couples of various ages. The Bates family got in line behind an aging couple, who were busy arguing in low voices about the things that they had packed for the journey. They were able to board quickly, John juggling the cases as he showed the steward their tickets. The man called for another to take them to their room, and John surrendered the cases gratefully, falling back to relinquish Martha's duty of clutching her brother's hand – a task that he told her she had performed very well. She glowed at the praise.

They followed the man down a long corridor, eventually coming to a stop outside a simple wooden door. John moved forward to open it for him, and he dumped the bags on the bed. John withdrew a coin and tipped him for his help, and then the door was closed behind them.

"This is nice, isn't it?" said Anna as she walked further into the room, inspecting her new surroundings.

"Where are we to sleep, Mummy?" asked Martha, frowning. "There are only two beds, and there are five of us!"

"Well, Mummy and I will be sharing this one," said John, shooting his wife a smirk that went straight over the children's heads. She blushed at the meaning of that smirk, smacking his arm gently.

"Will Grace and James be sleeping on the floor then? I'm the next oldest, so I should get the bed."

"No!" said Grace indignantly. "Mamma, not fair! _I_ want bed!"

"And me!" James piped up.

Anna rubbed her temples. "You'll _all_ be sharing the bed."

This was met with an even louder chorus of indignation, and Anna grimaced again.

"Mummy, that's not fair! We don't share at home! And Grace always fidgets and it's _annoying_!"

"Martha's mean, Mamma!"

Throughout the protests, Anna turned to John. "I hope you realise that this is all your fault. We should have travelled third class."

"But those rooms are awful. There's no room to breathe, never mind move."

"At least they would have had their own bed in third class."

He shuffled. "And so would we."

"Oh, so it's about that, is it? You and me sharing?"

He limped over to her, dropping his cane so that he could wrap his arms around her waist. She sighed, unable to stop herself from leaning in to him as he nuzzled softly against her neck. His hands found the familiar flare of her hips. "You know I hate sleeping without you."

"And here was me thinking that you wanted to treat us to a more luxurious trip."

"Well, I do. I just thought being able to share a bed was an added bonus."

She rolled her eyes, and he tilted her head to the side so that he could read her gaze. "Forgive me?"

"I might, later on."

He dipped his head, kissed her just lightly, aware of the fact that they weren't alone. She sighed softly against him, leaning completely into his touch.

"What about now?" he murmured.

"Oh, most definitely," she said, tilting her head up to kiss him again.

"Mummy, Pa! That's disgusting!"

They broke apart to find all three of their children's faces scrunched up in disgust. Anna slipped out of John's grasp and bent down in front of them.

"All right," she said. "We're all done now."

She shot John a look, and he couldn't help smirking. Yes, they were done. For now, at least. When they were alone…well, that was a different story.

* * *

Dinner was a quiet affair. The little dining room in second class was friendly, the tables squashed in together. Anna and John found one that was just big enough to accommodate all five of them, and even James found something to eat on the little menu, which was a relief since he could be so much fussier than his sisters. All three of the children stared around at their surroundings with inquisitive eyes, and were faultless in their behaviour. Plenty of other people commented on their exemplary behaviour, which made both Anna and John glow with pride.

After dinner, they conceded to a walk around the boat, pointing out points of interest to them. Eventually, however, Martha began to complain that she felt sick, and Grace started up soon after.

"All right," said Anna. "Let's get you back to our cabin. You might feel better then."

"A good night's sleep will work wonders," John agreed.

James looked disappointed. "Stars!" he said.

Anna and John exchanged a look.

"You want to see the stars?" clarified John, and James nodded. Anna and John exchanged another look before Anna smiled.

"I'll take Martha and Grace back to the cabin." she said. "I'll take Martha and Grace back to the cabin. Your pa will take you to have a look at the stars. All right?"

James nodded eagerly, and John squeezed his hand tighter. "We'll see you back in the cabin later, then."

Anna nodded. "Have a nice time. And look after him," she added playfully.

John nodded seriously, bringing him closer. "Don't worry, I won't take my eyes off him."

Seeing John overprotective of the children always made Anna glow internally. She reached between them and kissed his cheek gently, feeling herself overflowing with love, and then began to walk Martha and Grace away.

"It looks like it's just you and me then, son," said John with a twinkle in his eye. "Man to man."

James' little face glowed at the idea of him being a man, and he drew himself up to his full height, which wasn't very tall at all.

"Not sick, Pa," he said proudly. "Look ocean!"

"And you shall," said John. "It's a wonderful sight, James."

They arrived at the deck soon afterwards, and James immediately pulled his father as close to the railings as possible, tipping his little head back so that he could gaze at the stars. They sparkled cheerfully above his head, and John came up behind him, hanging his cane over the railings so that he could hitch his son into his arms, groaning a little, using the much needed railing as a welcome support. James' arms clasped themselves around his neck, and John breathed in the sweet scent of him, overwhelmed with love for the life that he had helped to create.

"They pretty," James commented, his dark eyes earnest.

"They are, aren't they? They're much more visible here than they are back at home."

"Why?"

"Well, the sky is much clearer here, see? There are no factories, so there is no smog. It's much more beautiful here."

"Pa?"

"Yes?"

"No sea!"

He chuckled. "What did you expect, in the dark?"

"See sea." The disappointment in his son's tone made his heart want to break. He vowed that they'd never want for anything. He wouldn't fail any of them.

"Well, what if we came out here in the morning, before we arrive? You'll be able to see it then."

James nodded eagerly, snuggling against him. In time, John knew that he would become more reserved in his affection, reigning it in because he'd think that it would make him more of a man. John silently swore that he would cherish each moment of affection that was bestowed upon him until then.

"In any case," he continued. "The stars are much prettier than the sea. The sea doesn't flicker."

James returned his attention to the sky, peering up at it interestedly. "Star names, Pa?"

"Do I know the stars' names? Some of them, yes. I learned a little about them in Africa."

"Africa!?"

He chuckled at the awe in his son's voice. "Yes. I was there a long time ago."

"See Lions?" By now, James was completely disregarding the stars again, his brown eyes wide with boyish excitement.

"I saw them once," he said. "But only from a distance. Still, I could tell that they were magnificent creatures. Huge, powerful things."

"They roar?"

"Oh, yes. Very loudly too."

"Me see them too," James decided.

"Perhaps you will. As a famous explorer." At least, John hoped that that would be the only way that James saw the world. Through strife and hatred…that wasn't the way to go about it. John hoped that his children never saw the horrors that he had lived through, and even the uncertainty of the war that Anna had experienced.

"Me go America," said James. "See the people!"

"Who don't eat children, no matter what Mr. Barrow says," said John firmly. "Anyway, son, I think we've seen as much as we're going to see tonight. And you're shivering. Mummy will tell me off if you get cold. Come on, let's get back inside."

James clung to his neck tightly as John gripped his cane again, transferring his son to his left arm as best he could.

"I might have to put you down," he warned him. "Your pa's not the young man he used to be."

Still, he managed even though he struggled, holding on tightly as they made their way back down the stairs to second class. His knee was beginning to protest more earnestly by the time he made it back to their cabin, but he gritted his teeth and persevered, easing open the door with some difficulty and slipping inside.

Anna was sitting at the tiny desk squashed into the corner of the room, already dressed for bed. John was struck suddenly mute by how beautiful she looked. Her hair was braided neatly, a few strands hanging loose around her face. Her nightgown was on, and he swallowed against the realisation that the flimsy material was all that she was wearing.

"Oh, there you are," she said, rising to her feet. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd got lost!"

"No, just taking in the sights," he told her, slipping James from his arms with a groan. Anna gave him a reproving look.

"John, you shouldn't carry him."

"I can manage," he said stubbornly.

She rolled her eyes, holding out her arms for James to walk into. "Yes, of course. Get yourself ready for bed now. I'll see to James."

"Early night, is it?" he said innocently, but he couldn't hide the cheeky twinkle in his eye.

"You'll be lucky," said Anna. "There are little people about."

He sighed exaggeratedly, moving over to wrap his arms around her. "Do I at least get a kiss?"

She pecked his cheek quickly, then pulled away.

"That's it?" he groaned. "Has the passion died in our relationship?"

"Get ready for bed and perhaps I'll kiss you properly," she said. "I'll get James sorted. He looks dead on his feet."

John watched her fussing around him for a moment before limping over to the bag which was thrown on their bed. He foraged around for his night things, before moving towards the bathroom to get ready – if it could be called a bathroom. It was barely big enough to accommodate him. There was a toilet, a sink and a mirror, and that was all. He splashed water onto his face and neck, running a damp cloth under his arms. He pulled on his bottoms and then slipped on his top. Running a hand tiredly through his hair, he returned to the bedroom. Anna was just tucking James into the bed he was sharing with his sisters. Martha and Grace didn't stir as he fidgeted until he was comfortable. John lingered in the background, simply taking in the sight of them. His heart swelled. He would never tire of seeing Anna as a mother.

"Go to sleep now," she murmured, bending to press a kiss against his dark hair. "Goodnight."

"Night, Mama," he murmured in reply, his eyes sliding closed. Anna stood up properly and moved towards her husband.

"How are Grace and Martha?" he asked her lowly.

She sighed. "Fine, I think. Martha was sick when we first got back, but Grace wasn't. And they were both out like lights as soon as their heads hit the pillows."

"Looks like James is following them," he murmured. Anna took a moment to eye him.

"You look much better," she said.

"Better enough to kiss?" he asked.

She sighed in exasperation. "Really, John. Get into bed."

"Only if you join me," he growled.

"You really are being impossible," she told him, though he noticed that she was smiling. "What's wrong with you?"

"I think you know the answer to that," he said, and she shivered.

"Soon," she promised him. "In Ireland. Do you think you can contain yourself until then?"

"I doubt I have much choice in the matter."

"No, I don't suppose you do."

He heaved a long-suffering sigh, then peeled back the sheets on the bed. "Very well, then. I'm getting into bed now, and I'll content myself with reading."

She smiled her approval, watching as he rummaged round for his book and, after a moment's hesitation, pulled out his glasses. She smirked a little to herself as he reluctantly perched them on his face, flipping open the book to the relevant page.

The glasses had been a recent addition to John's life, one that he frequently griped about. Anna had noticed him squinting more often whenever he was checking out customer details or relaxing for a few minutes at the end of a long day, and had eventually convinced him to go and see an eye specialist. He had returned later that day clutching a glasses case.

"_Solid proof that I'm an old man now,"_ he'd grumbled, throwing them down.

Anna had giggled, but her humour had soon died down later that night when she'd seen him wearing them for the first time. She'd felt a familiar flutter in her stomach, and then lower down, as she'd watched him poring over an invoice, a slight frown creasing his forehead,.

"_My, my, Mr. Bates,"_ she'd purred, walking over to him, draping her arms around his neck from behind. _"You're looking rather dashing."_

"_Don't mock,"_ he'd sulked.

"_Who says I'm mocking?"_ she'd murmured, nipping the ridge of his ear. _"They make you look very intelligent."_

"_As opposed to me normally looking simple?"_

She'd swatted his shoulder, moving around him to lean against the little table that he used as a desk. He'd cocked his eyebrow at her.

"_Is there something I can help you with?"_

"_The children are in bed,"_ she'd told him. _"So I was wondering if you could help me with my learning."_

He'd looked nonplussed. _"What learning?"_

Heaving an exasperated sigh, she'd nudged him back until she'd been able to sit on his lap, taking extra care of his right knee, which had been bothering him more over the week. She'd allowed her hands to run down his front, stopping just shy of his groin. _"Well, I'm a little behind on my poetry. I was hoping that you'd be able to help me with my recitals."_ Bending in low, she'd allowed her teeth to nibble just slightly at his bottom lip, one of his many weaknesses when it came to her.

He'd been listening most intently then, his hands rising to graze the sides of her breasts.

"_I'm sure I can help you with that,"_ he'd growled, leaning in to kiss her. She'd let him, her tongue meeting his was barely suppressed desire. The contact between their tongues had the rest of his body suddenly springing to attention, and he'd groaned into her mouth. Her fingers had moved to his collar, working it open feverishly.

"_The children are in bed, you say?"_ he'd gasped.

She'd nodded, preoccupied with the buttons on his waistcoat. _"Sounds asleep. They won't be awake for hours."_

Smirking, he'd hitched her up off his knee. _"In that case, I'd be more than happy to give you extra tuition."_

"_And what will that entail?" _she'd groaned, closing her eyes as his lips had descended to her neck.

"_You'll have to wait and see," _he'd rumbled. _"But I can promise that you're going to enjoy the lesson very much."_

In the next instant, he'd been pulling her towards the door, intent on getting her to their bedroom – or at least the sofa. She'd shrieked happily, but had paused when she'd caught sight of him reaching up to remove his glasses.

"_And just what do you think you're doing?"_ she'd said reprovingly.

He'd frowned. _"Removing these infernal things, of course."_

"_No, you're not," _she'd breathed huskily, letting her eyes rake over him appreciatively. _"They're staying right where they are."_

Anna shook her head to derail her increasingly distracted thoughts (she certainly _had_ enjoyed his lessons that evening), and clambered into bed beside him. He shifted a little to accommodate her – the bed was a little smaller than she'd initially thought – and then they both settled. All at once, Anna felt a wave of tiredness overcome her, and she yawned widely.

"Tired?" She could hear the amusement in John's voice, and flushed a little in embarrassment.

"Perhaps," she admitted.

John shifted beside her, peering around his book. "Sleep, then. It's been a long day."

"You don't mind? You wouldn't rather me stay awake and chat for a while?"

"Of course not. I'll turn the oil lamp down and then it'll be darker."

"I love you," she sighed, lowering herself onto her side, back to him. "You know that, don't you?"

"Of course I do. I love you too. Now go to sleep."

She smiled to herself at his gentle command, snuggling herself into the sheets. They were fairly warm, even if they were thin. The pillow wasn't very comfortable, but Anna was too tired to really notice it. The dim lighting in the room and the occasional rustle of John turning the pages was soothing, and her eyelids soon grew heavy. She didn't try to fight it, and was soon pulled beneath the surface of sleep, content in the knowledge that her family would be there in the morning.

* * *

She awoke early the next morning, temporarily disorientated by the foreign bed and the foreign rocking. She could feel a warm weight beside her, but there was no warmth pressed against the length of her back, nor a strong hand cradling her stomach. Struggling up a little, she twisted herself onto her other side, blinking blearily. A slow, affectionate smile spread across her face.

John was snoring quietly beside her, still sitting up. The covers were pooled around his hips, exposing his upper body to the chill of the room. His chin was dropped against his chest, and his glasses dangled from the end of his nose. His book was near his limp hands. Evidently he had fallen asleep over his reading. Anna couldn't help her heart swelling at the sight of him. It wasn't very often that she was graced with the opportunity to watch her husband sleep. At home, he was always up before her, usually dressed for the day ahead. Sometimes, he would still be beside her, and she would show him her appreciation of the action with her lips and her tongue and her body. But it was rare that Anna should see the same sight as he did every morning. The lines on his face were smooth now, his hair tousled boyishly. It made her stomach flutter.

She wondered briefly what time it was. It still looked dark outside. It was probably the early hours still. They might be able to sleep for a few more hours.

"John," she murmured, "John."

He mumbled something, barely rousing, and she grinned again, leaning up to rescue his glasses, pressing a kiss against his nose.

"Come here," she coaxed gently. "Lie down here next to me."

Half-asleep, he did as he was asked, shifting sluggishly, collapsing on his side next to her. Anna took hold of his hand and brought it round her stomach in their natural sleeping position, and he made a noise. She suppressed the urge to giggle. Her husband really was adorable when he was sleepy. She wished that she could wake him up a bit further, but that was out of the question completely.

Anna sighed and closed her eyes again. She would make do with feeling John's body weight against her. It was more than enough anyway.

* * *

The next time she awoke, she was aware of John's hand rubbing softly against her clothed stomach. She moaned softly, shifting as he stopped the motion at once.

"Good morning," he said. His voice was gruff with sleep.

"Morning," she mumbled hoarsely, shifting round so that she could face him. His own eyes were still drowsy.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked her, moving to press his lips to the tiny bit of skin that was exposed at the base of her neck.

"Wonderfully," she admitted, stretching out her limbs. "What time is it?"

"My pocket watch is over on the chair over there," he mumbled, "so I have no idea."

"Oh." The silence lingered on for a moment, pointed, until John chuckled despairingly.

"You want me to go and check, don't you?"

"That would be nice, yes. Thank you, darling."

He kissed that bit of skin again, lingeringly. "If I do that, I won't be getting back into bed."

"We couldn't do anything even if you did," she teased. "So I'm afraid that that won't be tempting me to change my mind."

"Will you at least give me one kiss to take with me?"

She smiled a little at hearing those words used in much happier times. "I suppose I can stretch to that."

John barely had time to register her words before Anna's arms came to rest against his shoulders, her knees bent so that she could curl her left leg around his right. Her mouth was on his in the next instant, and he was suddenly left in no doubt to the fact that she wasn't as tired as she had initially seemed. He felt the sly swipe of her tongue against his bottom lip, moistening it for him. His hand rose to the back of her head, pulling her closer and opening his mouth wide for her tongue to slip inside and tangle with his. He could feel his body quickly responding to the brush of their tongues, and he pulled away quickly. Rather than looking confused, Anna merely shot him a knowing grin.

"Oh dear," she chirped. "I was going to ask if that kiss was sufficient, but now I see that I don't have to."

"You tease," he growled at her. "You just wait until I get you alone. You won't be so smug then."

Anna felt her body flush eagerly at his words, but she kept her composure. "I'll look forward to you acting out your threat, Mr. Bates."

With that, John dropped one last kiss against her nose and slipped out of bed.

"It's not very warm," he commented reproachfully.

"What did you expect?"

"Not this," he grumbled. "Even our rooms at Downton were warmer than it is in here."

"That must be saying something, then."

Shivering, John foraged through the clothes that he had placed on the chair last night. He found his pocket watch and picked it up, squinting at the time.

"It's half past eight," he said, sounding shocked. "God, I don't remember the last time I stayed in bed so late."

"I can," said Anna lowly. "It was that first day in our cottage at Downton."

He chuckled, feeling his face heat. "Oh yes, I remember that well. We waltzed into work two hours later than we should have. I thought Mr. Carson was going to dismiss us on the spot."

"Until Mrs. Hughes intervened," giggled Anna. "We never quite dared to do it again."

"Poor Mrs. Hughes took pity on us after that. It was very kind of her to nudge Lady Mary into allowing us to have some time off. But I still blame you for that first day, you know."

"Me?" she said, watching him gather his clothes together. "If memory serves me correctly, _you_ were the one who kept me between those bed sheets that morning."

He moved back towards the bed, leaning over to kiss her and whisper in her ear. "And how was I supposed to resist you? You were naked. It would have been a crime not to ravish you."

She let out a shaky breath and John pulled away, pleased that he had managed to affect _her_ this time.

"We should wake the children," she said, trying to force her mind off the rather steamy recollections she had of that morning. "We don't want to miss breakfast completely."

"You're right," he agreed. "I'll do it now before I get changed."

Anna watched him move over to the other bed in the cabin, sitting down on the end of it gently. He passed his hand softly over the top of Martha's blonde head, tenderly encouraging her to wake. She whined sleepily.

"Come on, love," he said. "It's breakfast time. And we're nearly in Ireland. You don't want to miss our arrival, do you?"

At the mention of Ireland, Martha shot up at once. "We're almost there?"

"I told you that we are, my sweet. We'll be there in just over an hour."

Martha squealed loudly enough to rouse her brother and sister, and leapt out of bed with an energy that Anna thought should be banned so soon after waking.

"We'll see the faeries and the unicorns," she sang, running to find her clothes. "Mummy, get up!"

"I'm getting up," she sighed, meeting John's amused stare across the room. "Come on then, let's get you all ready for today."

"Our holiday is just beginning," said John with a smile.

Anna smiled in return. He was right. It was.

* * *

They made their way to the breakfast hall soon afterwards, and it passed quickly. Fresh orange juice and toast was brought to the table for them, and Martha pestered for some sausage and egg. The children chattered happily about various silly things, and when it was time to go, John offered to take James up to see the sea before they arrived.

"That's a good idea," said Anna with a smile. "I'll go back to the cabin to get out things together, and then I'll meet you up there. Girls, do you want to come with me or stay with your father?"

"Stay with Pa," said Martha at once, wrinkling her nose at the thought of having to help pack.

"Pa," Grace parroted, and Anna chuckled.

"I know when I'm the least desirable one," she joked.

"You're the most desirable woman in the world to me," John growled as the children contented themselves with pushing their chairs back noisily from the table.

"Mr. Bates," she warned. "Flirting will get you nowhere."

"What's flirting, Mummy?" asked Martha.

"Never you mind," she said primly, and he chuckled.

"Sorry, love," he said, squeezing her hand tightly. "I'll see you soon. Now, you three little explorers stick close to me, all right? Don't cause your poor old pa too much grief."

They set off in opposite directions. Anna glanced back over her shoulder. She couldn't help but smile. John was herding them gently along, limping just behind them as they bounded along the little corridor.

She made her way back to their cabin, and quickly gathered their things together, eager to re-join her family once more. Once back on the deck, she paused for a moment.

John was standing by the railings, an arm draped around each of his daughters, James tucked in front of him. There were others on deck, but Anna only had eyes for the four in her line of sight. Slowly she moved towards them, sliding her hand across her husband's back. He jumped.

"Hello, love," she said softly, reaching out to ruffle Grace's hair.

"Hello," echoed John, moving to press a kiss against her hairline. "Have you got everything together?"

She nodded, moving to nestle herself against his side as Grace and Martha moved forward to peer over the railings.

"Will we see Ireland soon?" asked Martha, rising up on her tiptoes.

"Any minute now," he reassured her.

They stood in silence as the boat drifted ever closer to their destination. And then James squealed.

"That, Pa?"

"It certainly is that," said John hearing Anna gasp beside him at her first glimpse of John's favourite country. Green, rolling hills. Quaint little houses, small and beautiful.

"Can we look for unicorns today?" asked Martha.

"Well, not today. We have to be polite to my cousin today. But tomorrow we can."

Martha sighed, but nodded reluctantly. "All right."

"What do you think, Anna?" said John, squeezing her lightly. "Do you like it?"

"It looks amazing," she told him honestly. "I really can't wait."

He smiled widely, and they watched the island grow bigger as the boat sailed closer. Finally, they were close enough to make out the explosion of pretty colours and the little dots of sheep grazing on the hills.

The dock that they pulled into was noisy, but not quite as dirty as the ones in England. As Anna gathered the children together, John picked up the bags and smiled at her.

"Welcome to Ireland," he said.

* * *

**A/N:** I hate naming children so much. There's no real significance behind any of them, other than the fact that I typed in "popular baby names 1920s" into Google. I have wonderful research skills. And writing dialogue for young children is horrible. I know that two year olds are not supposed to have a large vocabulary, and they're still stringing two words together as a whole, but I had to bend the rules a little in places. And I'm sure Martha is far too advanced for a four year old. Also, I know Ireland would still be dangerous for an English family in the 1920s, but never mind. If Sybil can go to live there safely enough, the Bateses can visit for a few days.

I think there will be four parts, so stay tuned for the rest. Unfortunately, due to my horrible university timetable from now until I break up in May, I won't be able to write any more of this until I finish. I have lots of coursework coming up right now, and I really need to work hard. The last thing I want to do is fail the year so close to the end!


	2. The Arrival

**A/N:** This has basically turned into a filler chapter (wow, I make it sounds like it's going to have a plot...) because this one and the next were originally one. However, I decided to split it because it was long. So yeah. Hopefully there's still enough to enjoy here.

**Guest 1** – Thank you very much! I'm glad you're enjoying it so far. I hope you continue to do so. Thank you for reviewing. :)

**batesfan2** – Glad you enjoyed the first chapter. I hope it continues to meet your expectations. :) Thank you for the review.

**Guest 2** – Hopefully you won't have to wait too long for the rest now. :) And I'm sure Anna will keep her promise…eventually! Thanks for reviewing.

* * *

_2. The Arrival_

Ten minutes later, they were disembarking the boat. All three children, wide-eyed with wonder, took in the unfamiliar sights.

"Where did you say your cousin was going to have us picked up?" asked Anna, picking her way through the crowd.

"Just outside the docks. She's sending her neighbour," said John. "And then it'll take about an hour to reach Carlingford."

"Pa, I _really_ can't understand what they're saying," announced Martha decidedly, obviously trying to follow the nearby conversations.

"You'll soon get used to it, love," chuckled John. "If you inherited my Irish blood, then you won't have any problems at all."

"Are you trying to imply that this Yorkshire lass will?" said Anna in mock indignation.

"Well, even if she does, she'll still be my Yorkshire lass," he teased in reply. "Now, come on. I think that must be our personal chauffeur."

"Like at Downton?" Martha squealed excitedly. "Does that mean we're rich, Pa? Are we posh now?"

John laughed again. "I'm afraid not, Martha. My cousin is just being kind enough to not let us make our own way to her house."

"Is _she_ rich then?"

"I'm afraid the answer to that is still no,"

They were interrupted then by a young man, his hat tilted jauntily on his head.

"Bates?" he said, his accent thick.

"Yes, that's us," said John warmly.

The young man stuck out a confident hand. "The name's Seamus. I live next door to Mrs. Dunne."

"John Bates," said John, shaking his hand firmly. "This is my wife, Anna, and these are our children."

"And aren't you cute as buttons?" he said, bending down to their level. "Are you looking forward to your holiday?"

Grace promptly hid herself behind her mother's skirts. James shrank further into his father's side. Even Martha looked a little less sure.

"Well, that's something I've never seen before," commented Anna. "You're going to have to tell me how you managed to silence them like that. I could do with it from time to time!"

Seamus gave an easy grin. "I'll have to let you know the secret when we get back."

He helped them to bundle themselves into the back of the motor, storing the luggage on the back. John heaved himself into the front beside him, and once Seamus was settled, they began to trundle away from the docks.

"How long are you visiting for?" he asked interestedly. "Mrs. Dunne doesn't get many visitors anymore."

"Just for a few days, I'm afraid. We own a hotel in England. We can afford to close for a few days, but no longer than that."

"A hotel, eh? How long have you been running that?"

John glanced back at Anna softly. "Just a couple of years. We made the move not long after the twins."

"It must be nice, to be your own boss," Seamus sounded wistful.

"It is," John admitted. "But we were in service for a long time before that. What do you do, Seamus?"

"I work in a factory. It was the only thing available when I got home from the war."

Silence reigned for a moment as the three adults reflected quietly on the devastation that the war had wreaked on the world. The three children continued to chatter.

"What's Carlingford like?" asked Anna, wanting to steer the conversation towards less painful territory.

Seamus smiled. "It's God's own town. There isn't a more beautiful place on earth."

"Are there woods?" Martha piped up from the back.

"Oh, aye. Lots of lovely little woods. We've got a beautiful coastline, but we're still in the countryside."

Martha nodded, obviously content with the answer that she had received. John knew what she was asking for, and hid his smile by turning his head to contemplate the countryside. It was speeding past in no time at all, blurs of greens and yellows, beautiful, bright colours. The sky overhead was grey, but even the threat of rain couldn't dampen their spirits. It was nice to get away for a few days, to spend quality time with his family. He hadn't seen them much over the last few weeks, too busy with making sure that the hotel was in a good working order, so it was nice to know that he could make up a little for that with both his children and his wife. He chanced a glance back and caught Anna's gaze. He had to force himself to keep breathing steadily. She smirked just slightly at him, and he had to avert his gaze. There was too much coy promise in that gaze for him to handle.

At last, the car began to slow down, and John listened as Anna paused in the middle of her game with the children (spotting different animals in the fields, which she had begun to regret when the children had squealed loudly each time that they had spotted a herd of cows) to tell them that they were almost at their destination. This was met with an even louder chorus and, as the fields turned into houses, Martha promptly began to declare each one that they passed as the one that they were visiting, giggling all the time. Anna rolled her eyes affectionately, moving to peer out of her window.

Seamus had been honest. It really was a beautiful town. The place was lovely, each house made from quaint, dusty bricks. John spied a post office and a pub. They would probably take a walk there later to get their bearings. The looks of excitement on his children's faces made his heart swell in his chest, and seeing it mirrored on Anna's made it threaten to burst. It was wonderful, to see them so eager.

Presently, they turned down a side street, packed with small houses. Seamus killed the engine until they were simply crawling along.

"The street's too narrow to go any faster," he said, even though they hadn't asked.

And, finally, they came to a complete stop. Seamus cut out the engine.

"Here we go," he announced. "And there's Mrs. Dunne."

John craned his neck to see the woman standing at the gate. He hadn't seen her in years, but she hadn't changed. Not really.

"Who's that?" asked Martha, pointing.

"That's my cousin," said John. "She's the one we're staying with."

Martha said no more, and John fumbled with the handle on the car door. Seamus jumped out, moving round to collect the bags while John opened the door for Anna and the children. He held out his hand and Anna took it, smiling nervously at him.

"Stop worrying," he told her, knowing what she was thinking. He brushed his lips against her cheek quickly, then reached in to help his children. He heard the sound of footsteps behind him and turned as soon as he could, smiling. His cousin was in front of him.

"John," she said. She was smiling broadly. Anna was struck with how similar they looked to each other.

"Maeve," he replied, smiling just as broadly, allowing her to wrap him up in her arms. She was a great deal shorter than he was, but stoutly built. It was obvious that she was a good few years older than him, from the deep lines that creased her face. But her eyes were young and shining playfully when she released John from her surprisingly strong grip, turning her gaze on the three children.

"Look at you," she cooed. "Aren't you just the loveliest things?"

"Did you expect any less?" John teased.

"I did from you, John Bates."

He laughed heartily, then motioned to each of the children. "This is Martha. Don't let her innocent face fool you. And Grace and James are here. They're always double the trouble, no matter what they'd have you believe."

Martha stared wide-eyed at the lady in front of her, sizing her up with child-like innocence. Obviously deciding that there was nothing to be afraid of, she stepped forward and held out a tiny hand, just like her pa had taught her was polite.

"What impeccable manners," laughed Maeve, bending down to accept her little hand. And then she straightened up, turning her dark gaze on his wife. "And so you're Anna."

The words sent a shiver down Anna's spine. Even though it was years later, and even though a completely different woman was standing there in front of her, just hearing those words being repeated in another Irish accent sent cold chills through her. For a brief second, she was transported back to 1916, back to the servants' hall, where she had first laid eyes on Vera. She had said those words to her then, her voice filled with barely disguised contempt. She'd been bold then.

But this woman standing before her wasn't Vera. Maeve Dunne's eyes were warm and kind, nothing like Vera's cold, cruel ones. Her voice was nothing but welcoming. This wasn't 1916 anymore. That unhappy time was long gone.

"Yes, I am," she said, echoing her words of that time too, but this time she didn't sound defiant. Maeve smiled at her, her eyes crinkling slightly, and then offered her hand too.

"Welcome to Ireland," she said, and Anna took her hand. Her grip was strong and firm.

"Thank you for having us," Anna replied, smiling. "The tales that John has told me over the years have got me quite excited, and I'm quite sure that Martha shares my enthusiasm."

"Johnny never could resist talking Ireland up, even if he hasn't lived here for years," laughed Maeve. "I'm sure he bored you silly sometimes."

"I'll have you know that Anna hung onto my every word," John retorted, though he was grinning.

"But sometimes I was wishing that you would just shut up and kiss me," Anna murmured to him, watching his face flush a little. Maeve hadn't heard, too busy thanking Seamus as he brought their bags around for them. He tipped his hat to them, grinning cheekily, then hopped back in the motor.

"I'd better be getting this back to Mr. O'Sullivan before he thinks I've stolen it," he said cheerfully. "I'll see you later, Mrs. D."

John and Anna raised their hands while the children bounced around, waving their arms above their heads. Once they'd watched the motor trundle around the corner, they turned back to Maeve.

"Seamus is a good lad," said Maeve, bending to pick up one of the travelling valises despite John's protests. "He looks after his ma and his brothers well."

"He doesn't seem very happy in his job, though."

"Well, you can hardly blame him, can you? After the rush and the excitement of the war, all the young lads have been forced back into jobs where they're yelled at daily, where they struggle to make ends' meet. It's hardly a desirable outcome for them, is it?"

"I suppose not," John mused, remembering how he had felt when he'd returned from the war, trapped and angry at the world. Not wanting to dwell on such things, he took hold of Grace's hand. Sensing that John didn't want to continue the conversation on any further, Maeve motioned for them to follow her into the house. They did so, the children toddling on eager legs to explore their new surroundings.

Maeve's house was modest and cosy. She led them through the back door, into the warm kitchen.

"I thought you might be hungry after such a long journey," she said, "so I've made some fresh biscuits for you to enjoy."

At the mention of biscuits, the children squealed loudly, pulling desperately at their parents' hands. Anna giggled, moving to pick James up.

"That's very kind of you," she said.

"Not at all," Maeve smiled warmly. "Sit yourselves down, and I'll get you a cup of tea."

"Are you sure you don't want some help?" asked Anna.

"Not at all. Make yourselves comfortable."

John left the bags by the door, and helped Anna to settle the children into the seats around the table. Maeve had clearly added more to accommodate all of them. The table was crowded now, but friendly and cosy.

"How long have you lived here?" Anna asked politely, watching as Maeve bustled around making tea.

"Nearly all me life, lass. I moved here when I first married when I was barely twenty. Milk and sugar?"

"Please," she said. "It's a very beautiful place."

"Aye, it is that. But I've heard that Yorkshire is quite the place too."

"It's more wild than beautiful, I'd say," said Anna. "But I grew up there, and I love it."

"No doubt John does too," said Maeve with a cheeky smile. "He did meet you there, after all."

John and Anna exchanged glances, both of them colouring slightly; they were both transported back to the day they had met, to the little smiles that they had exchanged out there in the corridor, feeling each other's firm grip for the very first time. The beginning of it all.

Oblivious to their parents' distraction, the children slurped happily on the orange juice that had been set before them, each of them reaching out eager fingers to the plate of cookies, but Maeve noticed the look between them. It was warm and loving.

"Here's your tea," she said, setting it down on the table in front of them. "Can I get either of you anything to eat? I can't imagine the ferry food being very substantial."

"It wasn't as bad as you might think," John said, reaching for a biscuit. "But I remember enough of your baking to know that it's delicious."

"Martha, love, you're old enough to know not to play with your food," said Anna, sighing as she watched her eldest daughter breaking the cookie into tiny fragments, crumbs flying in all directions. "It's not nice to make a mess for other people to clean up."

"It's fine," said Maeve. "I don't mind. I used to clean up after Johnny all the time when we were youngsters, and there was never a messier child around."

"An exaggeration," John claimed. "I'll have you know that I'm a very ordered man."

"It's true," agreed Anna with a giggle. "_Everything_ has an order."

"Then the army did have an influence on you. And here was me thinking that it had failed."

"It wasn't the army. It was my mother's fearsome wrath."

The cousins laughed together, and Anna leant back in her chair, smiling softly. It was rare to see John so open and _free_. The barriers between the two of them had long since disintegrated. They had enjoyed a happy, lively relationship ever since his release from prison, teasing each other as often as they possibly could. But it was rare to see him acting in such a way around anyone else. He had always been the image of propriety when they had worked at Downton. He had never had such a relationship with any of the guests who stayed at their hotel. It was nice, to be able to witness her husband being like that with family, to see that even after all of their years without seeing each other, John and Maeve still had an incredibly amiable relationship. Anna was enjoying seeing her husband laugh without his attention being focused upon her.

"When you've finished your tea, I'll show you where you'll be staying," Maeve was saying as she picked up her own cup. "I'm afraid the house isn't very big, but the space should be adequate enough for you."

"It's lovely," Anna said truthfully. "You've done a wonderful job with it."

"Thank you, Anna. It can be difficult to maintain sometimes. Ever since…ever since my Harold died, I've struggled with the odd jobs, but on the whole I've managed."

Anna felt guilty at the look of loss that crossed the older woman's face. Obviously noticing this, Maeve smiled again.

"Come on, I'll show you around."

"I'll stay here and make sure the children don't get into any trouble," John offered. "I'll bring them up just as soon as they're done."

Maeve nodded, and turned back to Anna. "Shall we, then?"

Anna nodded too, replacing her cup on the table. The children were still noisily slurping at their juice, and she had to smile.

"Be good for your pa," she told them, though she doubted that they were listening, too enamoured with their treats. Maeve led the way up the staircase.

"I hope you'll be comfortable here," she said. "It's not a very big house."

"I'm sure that it will be perfect," said Anna. Our quarters back at the hotel aren't that big, really."

"I expect that it can be hard sometimes, with three growing children about the place."

"I suppose it can be. Their exuberance is exhausting, and they're at an age now when they constantly need watching over. Martha is always getting herself into trouble, and the twins are at the age where they're moving about a lot more easily on their own. You only have to take your eyes off them for a second, and they're gone."

Maeve chuckled. "I can imagine. Still, they seem like wonderful children, they really do."

Anna glowed as she always did when someone complimented her children, a motherly instinct that she would never lose. "Thank you. They're all perfect to me. And John is absolutely wonderful with them. He worships the ground they walk on."

"I can believe that," said Maeve. "It's easy to see just by spending a moment in his company with them. It's nice to see him so settled, after everything. Anyway, here we are. This is where you'll be sleeping."

She pushed open the door nearest the stairs, and led Anna inside. The younger woman let out a gasp.

"Oh, Maeve, it's beautiful in here," she said. "I love it."

She could smell fresh bed sheets. There were bright yellow flowers in the window sill. Sunlight streamed in, lighting the room magnificently. The walls were a pretty pale blue. The bed itself was large and luxurious for the space. Anna shivered at the thought, quickly pushing those thoughts away.

"So it will be adequate?" said Maeve.

"Of course it will. It's wonderful."

"I'm glad. Come along, I'll show you where the children will be sleeping. I'm afraid that they can't have a room each, but there's enough room for two beds."

"I hope you didn't go to too much trouble just to get two beds in there. They would have shared."

"Nonsense. It wasn't too much trouble. I persuaded Seamus and Mr. O'Sullivan to help."

"Even so, you didn't have to. It was very thoughtful of you."

Maeve smiled softly. "It's just nice to think that the room will be filled."

They were interrupted by a crash from downstairs. Anna jerked around at once.

"Oh God," she said. "I hope they haven't broken anything."

"They're only children, it's fine."

"Actually," Anna said, shooting her a shrewd grin, "it's probably John."

* * *

They decided not to go too far that first day, choosing instead to settle into their new environment. Late in the afternoon, John ventured into the village alone to scout out the surroundings while Maeve pottered around the kitchen and Anna stayed behind to unpack their belongings, keeping the children with her. As he'd thought on the way in, it was a very beautiful place. There was a public house in the centre of the town, with large, welcoming windows. It was already teeming with workers who were taking a welcome break. There was a quaint little park on the outskirts. The children would like to visit there at some point. It could be incredibly tiring and painful for his leg to try to keep up with their energetic tearing about, but he had once vowed that his leg would not pose a problem to them come hell or high water, and he was determined not to back down on that now. He saw an advertisement for a fair that was arriving at the weekend, and several pretty little shops, which he knew that Anna would just love to explore. Just beyond the village, the woods began.

Once he returned from the village, a good couple of hours later, John was dragged into the sitting room to read.

"You've not read to me in ages," said Martha reproachfully, clambering up onto his lap clutching at his battered copy of _Household Stories_, the translated collection of tales written by the German Grimm brothers. "Mummy did it when you were away, but it's not the same."

He hid a contented smile against his daughter's thick blonde hair, wrapping his arm around her protectively and leaning forward to flip the book open to the right page. "Mummy is a wonderful reader."

Martha wrinkled her nose. "Maybe, but she can't do the growly voices like you can."

He chuckled, pressing her closer to him. "That's because Mummy is a beautiful princess, not an old bear like me."

"Pa!" Martha giggled. "You're not a bear!"

"Oh really?" he said. "Then why can I do the growly voices so well?"

She giggled loudly again, and he hitched her closer on his knee, pressing a kiss against her soft little cheek.

"Now, where did Mummy get to with you?" he asked her.

"_The Fisherman and His Wife_," she supplied helpfully, snuggling closer to his chest. "She wouldn't read any more to me after that because she said it was bed time."

"And quite right she was. Everyone has a bed time."

"_You_ would have read one more story."

"Well, I would have been naughty to do that. Mummy would have told me off."

"Would she have smacked your bottom?"

He chuckled. "Oh, I'm sure she would have done something much worse than that." She probably would have refused to make love with him, a thought that was torturous now given the current circumstances.

Martha fell silent then as he found the right chapter. He was soon in full swing, narrating the tale of the fisherman and the magic fish, switching voices for each character to make her giggle and snuggle closer. Grace and James played by his feet, squabbling over James' train, not at the age yet to appreciate books. Martha kept scrunching her face up in discontentment at the loud noises coming from her siblings, and John raised his voice for her benefit. That, however, seemed to spark off a challenge in the twins, who began to squeal louder than ever to drown out the sound of their father.

In the next moment, the door was swinging wide open.

"What on _earth_ is going on in here?"

The whole room fell silent at once, as four pairs of eyes meekly met the disapproving gaze of Anna. Her hands were resting on her hips, and she allowed her gaze to travel over each individual in the room.

"It sounds as if there's a circus in here," she announced, frowning. "Now, I'd let it slide at home, but we're not at home at the moment. We need to be as quiet as mice for Maeve."

"Mice, mice!" said Grace happily, tottering over to her mother and clinging onto her skirts. Anna bent down and hitched her up into her arms.

"That's right," she said. "Mice. Shall we see if we can do it? Starting right now. Dinner is ready, so let's see if you can tiptoe into the kitchen quietly."

Grace nodded, eyes shining with excitement at the idea of the new game, and wriggled to be put down. Anna complied, and she set off at once, giggling loudly, and certainly not being as quiet as a mouse. Anna winced as James set off after her, abandoning his train in the middle of the floor.

"Martha, go with them," she sighed. "And make sure that they wash their hands."

"But Mummy, Pa was just getting to a good bit!" she whined, pouting. "It's not fair! I don't want dinner!"

"Of course you want dinner. And Maeve's baked a lovely apple pie for dessert. Don't you want some of that?"

Martha's eyes lit up at the thought of pudding, nodding eagerly. She slid from her father's lap and set off after her siblings at once.

John smirked as he bookmarked the page that he'd reached, leaning back to accommodate his wife as she wriggled herself onto his lap now that his eldest daughter had moved.

"I see what this is," he said. "It was all a ploy to get me to yourself."

She tapped his nose playfully. "I'm afraid not. Dinner really is ready."

"Do you think we can miss it?" he said in a low, delicious growl. "I know what I'd like to have for dessert, and it certainly isn't a piece of apple pie."

"Behave yourself, John Bates. There's no way that we could explain our absence at dinner, and it would be rude to, especially since your cousin has gone to so much trouble to cook for us. I'm afraid that you won't be getting any dessert at all at this rate." Still, she couldn't stop herself from running a hand through his hair, ruffling it slightly.

"It's rude that we can't be together properly," he told her lowly, fingers caressing the top of her thigh.

She couldn't stop the shiver from rifling through her body. "Mr. Bates, I mean it. Behave yourself. You managed wonderfully when you had to control yourself all those years ago."

"I think that's the key term there," he said. "It was _years_ ago. I've had the honour of touching you at leisure since then. This business of not being able to is torture."

"Soon," she promised him.

"When the children have been put to bed?"

"Goodness me, John. We'll see."

It was the best she was willing to promise for now, and she had to smile a little at the boyish look of frustration on her husband's face. But, more than all that, it still made her absolutely glow to know that several years later, her husband still desired her as ardently as he had in those early days after his release from prison, when everything had been so new and exciting to them. Just watching his eyes flicker in that way that was so familiar to her now always made her stomach squirm pleasantly. It was a look that no one but she would be able to understand, and it was all the more exciting to her when their eyes met across the room back home, when they were enjoying an evening with their children, knowing that later that night he'd take her up to bed and make her whole body almost fold beneath itself, so consumed by pleasure. She hoped that that feeling would never end.

Knowing that her thoughts were on very dangerous territory, she sought to pull herself back from the precipice of surrender – sometimes, she wasn't sure if she could trust _herself_ not to take him by the hand and drag him upstairs, no matter what she was doing, or what company they had – and she passed her hand through his hair again, frowning softly into his face.

"What is it?" he asked her, sensing the change in the atmosphere.

"You're not wearing your glasses," she said disapprovingly.

He shuffled sheepishly. "Martha wanted me to read to her straight away."

"You should have fetched your glasses first. You'll only end up straining your eyes more, and then where will you be?"

"I'm sorry," he offered, fixing her with his best beseeching stare.

She couldn't stop herself from giggling. "Yes, you will be one day, when your eyesight is shot completely."

"You really know how to make a man feel better about himself."

"Well, I can't dispute that," she purred, letting her eyes sweep over him pointedly. He felt a rush of arousal at her words, at the way that her eyes raked over him, as though she could devour him right then and there. He half-expected her to lean in and capture his mouth for a kiss – something that he was sure wouldn't stay at just that given their recent dry spell – and he groaned in despair as she finally wriggled free of his lap, standing purposely in front of him.

"You temptress, Anna Bates," he groaned. "How is a simple man supposed to survive when you torture him in such a way?"

"I'm sure you'll find a way," she smirked, slipping her hand into his and helping him to his feet. "Now, come on. Your cousin will wonder where we've got to."

"Just you wait until later," he said in a quiet rumble. "You'll be sorry for teasing me."

"Is that a threat?"

"No, it's a promise."

Anna giggled. "Then I'll look forward to it."

* * *

Dinner passed without too much incident. Afterwards, John offered to take the children outside into the little yard to burn off some excess energy while Anna insisted on helping Maeve tidy up.

"I can manage," Maeve protested, making Anna smile – she sounded too much like her cousin.

"Honestly, I want to help. I can't expect you to clean up after us all of the time."

"I don't mind. You're here to rest, not to run yourself ragged."

Anna laughed. "Believe me, there's not much chance of me getting much of a rest with those three around."

Maeve relented then, and the two women watched the children play from the window while they washed and dried the pots.

"John looks very happy," Maeve said suddenly.

"I hope he is," said Anna, watching as he limped after a stray ball that Martha had thrown in his direction.

"I don't think I've ever seen him as happy as he has been in these last few hours."

Anna smiled softly. "Well, I do like to hope that I make him as happy as he makes me."

"I think it's safe to say that you do."

Silence reigned between them after that as they continued to watch John interacting with his children. When the pots had been cleared away, Maeve excused herself to make sure that each of the guest rooms had all of the essentials, and Anna slipped out into the garden to watch her family more intently.

"Mummy!" cried Martha, noticing her at once, and Anna hunkered down as her eldest daughter started running towards her on stout little legs.

"Are you enjoying your game?" she asked her, and the little girl nodded, eyes glowing.

"Pa is teaching me how to throw properly," she stated proudly.

"I can see that it's working."

It wasn't, not really; Martha's aim was still appalling. But her daughter swelled with pride, and Anna couldn't bear to think of bursting her bubble.

"We could have a cricketer on our hands," John said as he lumbered up, tossing the ball lightly in the air.

Anna laughed at the mental image of her daughter dressed up in the cricket whites, and Martha giggled too, throwing her arms around her mother's neck. Anna caught her around the waist and pulled her closer, burying her nose in the side of her daughter's little neck, breathing in the scent of her skin. John moved to rest a hand against Anna's shoulder, casting his own gaze across the garden, where Grace and James were happily wriggling in the grass together.

"They're going to be absolutely filthy," he sighed. "They'll need baths."

"I'm sure that your cousin won't mind us giving them one. We'd better get them sorted before it gets to their bedtime."

John nodded. "Take Martha inside, and I'll get the twins."

"Don't be silly. _I'll _get the twins. You can get out their night things. I packed them into one of the drawers."

"Anna –" John began, frowning, but she cut him off there, rising up so that she was standing and pressing her lips sweetly against his, silencing him effectively. His hand reflexively moved to her waist, spanning it protectively. Martha wriggled between them, arms clasped around her mother's neck, giggling at the expression on her pa's face.

"Will you listen to me now?" she said, raising her eyebrow.

"I'll listen," he murmured, moving in to kiss her chastely again, but she kept him at bay by hitching Martha more securely against her hip.

"John," she said warningly, drawing out the word.

He sighed, unable to stop himself from smirking a little as Martha regarded them both innocently. "All right, I'm going." Gently, he took Martha from Anna's grasp, jostling her securely in his strong grasp. "Come on, Martha. Let's get you ready for bed."

"Will you read to me again?" she asked him eagerly, her eyes shining.

"When I've helped your mummy get Gracie and James bathed."

Martha nodded contentedly, and John pressed his lips against her cheek, holding her closer to him.

Maeve consented graciously to them having a bath, and John began to run it while Anna got Martha into her nightgown. She snuggled sleepily down into her soft bed, clutching her book in her hands.

"Pa said he'd read to me when Grace and James are bathed," she said as Anna kissed her forehead.

"And I'm sure he will. We won't be long, I promise. The twins look dead on their feet."

They certainly did; it seemed that their time in the fresh air had drained them of their energy completely. They were surprisingly compliant in the bath, something which was rare for them, and John and Anna were able to bathe them without a hindrance, exchanging soft smiles across the bath tub, tipping water over their little bodies. Once bundled in their night clothes, they were settled down into their bed, and were asleep almost before their heads hit the pillows. John glanced across at Martha, who was still awake but blinking sleepily, and turned back to Anna.

"You go back downstairs," he whispered to her. "I'll be along soon. Martha won't be long before she's asleep too, by the look of her."

Anna nodded, exiting the room and making her way back to the parlour, where Maeve was now sitting. The older woman smiled gently at her, gesturing for her to take the sofa.

"Where's John?" she asked.

"He's just settling Martha down. He'll be along soon."

Maeve nodded, returning to her needlework. "Your children are wonderful."

"I hope they'll be quiet enough for you."

"Oh, believe me, it's nice to have the rooms filled with laughter again."

An air of wistfulness accompanied her tone, but before she really had time to think about it, John was entering the room.

"Sound asleep," he said. "And that was before we'd even got halfway through the page."

"I suppose all the excitement has worn them right out," said Maeve. "Little darlings."

John sat himself down beside his wife, slipping his arm around her waist. "I don't suppose any of us will be long before retiring tonight. Travelling is a lot more tiring than I remember."

Anna was pleasantly surprised that he was being so open with his affection. She had expected him to be reserved, as he had been in his time at Downton, as he was around their hotel guests. And yet, she supposed, it was different here; Maeve was family. Social barriers weren't quite the same. He was affectionate with her in front of the children, after all. Somewhat reassured by this, she leant her body fully into his, snuggling up against his side.

Maeve's gaze flicked between the two of them, but she said nothing, smiling slightly. "Well, that's something that I never thought I'd hear you say, John. You were always plagued with insomnia as a boy."

"Not as much as I used to be," he said. "I do have some sleepless nights, but they're much pleasanter now."

Anna knew what he was alluding to, and she burrowed more firmly against him. On the nights that he couldn't sleep, he would spend his time watching her, and she would awaken to find his dark eyes boring into hers, his arms wrapped around her, the intensity of his gaze making her stomach flutter. Although she would berate him gently for not trying to sleep, inwardly she would thrill at the fact that he would scrutinise her so thoroughly, so reverently. Other times, if he was feeling particularly amorous, she would woozily rouse to feel his lips trailing up and down the skin of her throat, his fingers dancing tenderly against her sensitive thighs, and they would make love exchanging nothing but darkness-cloaked kisses and inaudible sounds of pleasure.

John would sleep after that.

"So what are you intending to do tomorrow?" Maeve asked, reaching for the cup of tea that was placed on the little table in front of her. "Have you got any plans?"

"Not yet," said John. "We were wondering what you could recommend for us."

She smiled. "Well, tomorrow we could go to the village. You haven't seen the place yet, have you, Anna?"

"Not yet, no. I would very much like to."

"It's a pretty little place. Plenty of nice shops, and there's a park for the children. Not too far for them to walk, either."

"That's a relief. The twins can be a handful to carry long distances, and Martha would probably complain about not getting the same treatment."

Maeve laughed. "I can certainly imagine. And then perhaps the day after I could get Seamus to drive us a little further afield, to Omeath, or perhaps Dundalk."

"If you're sure that it's not too much trouble."

"Of course it isn't! It's been a while since I went to the city myself."

They spent another hour simply chatting away. Anna was pleased to find that Maeve wasn't awkward company at all; she asked Anna lots of questions about her life, and listened intently to her replies. She treated John with all of the affection of an older sibling, and it made Anna smile to know that he was finally reconnecting with the other part of his family. She kept close to his side throughout, shivering a little when his fingers grazed against her neck, or his breath ruffled her hair. She loved being able to sit so close to him without the worry of being judged.

When Anna had suppressed her fourth yawn, however, John turned to his cousin.

"I think we're going to head up now," he said. "I hope you don't mind."

Maeve nodded. "Of course not. You must be exhausted. I won't be much longer either, I don't think. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," they echoed, and together they made their way up the old staircase, to the bedroom that was to be theirs for the duration of their stay. Once in there, Anna sighed, stretching her arms above her head.

"I can't wait to get out of my clothes tonight," she groaned. "My corset has been pinching something awful all day."

John's smile was lecherous as he regarded her.

"Well," he drawled, letting his eyes trail lazily over her frame. "You should stop wearing them, then."

She shot him a look over her shoulder, halfway out of her dress now. "I don't think so."

"And why not?" he asked, watching her shoulder blades jut as she bent down to retrieve her nightgown.

"Because I know that you'd never get anything done again," she said cheekily, slipping the gown over her head.

"I would," he said indignantly.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Really? What happened last time I did something unorthodox?"

The urge to smirk was suddenly stronger. He knew exactly what she was referring to. Once, last winter, she had bought herself a new lingerie set, something that she had been intending to show to him that evening, when the children were tucked safely up in bed. However, he had caught sight of it as she'd slipped into it that morning, and the racy, low cut had barely left anything to the imagination. Consequently, he had been unable to take his eyes off her all morning, and had followed her doggedly around the rooms, wrapping her in his arms and planting kisses along her neck until she'd just had to give in. He would be forever grateful for the fact that it had been the hotel's down season, and their kindly neighbour had offered to watch the children for the day while the two of them restored their home. Their restoring hadn't got any further than their dishevelled bed sheets, but neither of them had been about to complain. They hadn't had the house to themselves since Martha's birth those years previously. It had been nice to simply tumble into bed together, to touch with a heated frenzy and be as loud as they wanted, without fear that they would somehow alert their children. It was a memory that he would always treasure.

"Perhaps you could take that chance," he murmured, moving to loop his arms around her waist, pressing a kiss against her temple as he moulded himself against her back. "I might surprise you."

"Yes, and I know what kind of surprise you'd get me," she teased.

With a huff, he released her, moving to collect his own pyjamas. "I should be insulted by your lack of faith in me."

"Oh, darling," she said soothingly, though she was grinning wickedly. "You know I've never doubted you once."

He smiled softly at her words, remembering a darker time in his life. Yes, that was true. Anna had been his saving grace through those terrible years. He shuddered to think about what life could have been like without her complete belief in him.

"Are you looking forward to tomorrow?" he asked her, shrugging off his waistcoat.

"I certainly am," she smiled. "It'll be an adventure. I'm looking forward to seeing the sights."

"Of the charming Irish men?" he teased, starting on the row of buttons down his front.

She was suddenly very aware of the thick, dark hair that dominated the top half of his chest. She swallowed hard. "Oh, yes. I might find one just like Mr. Branson."

"And he'd whisk you away on a rickety old trap."

"I wouldn't care what he'd whisk me away on," she said, shooting him a smirk. "I'd be lost just as soon as he opened his mouth. The Irish accent is incredibly –"

She was squealing aloud in the next instant, John's bare chest pressing into her back, his arms wrapped tightly around her.

"Do you want to finish that sentence, my dear?" he growled playfully at her, nibbling at the ridge of her ear.

"Hmm," she said, pressing back against him, "I think I might…"

"And crush my dreams that I'm the only man that you find attractive?" he murmured low in her ear, sure to add in the extra lilt of his accent solely for her benefit. She groaned against him, turning in his arms.

"How could I find anyone else attractive when you talk like that?" she said, pulling him down for a feverish kiss. He responded just as eagerly, his hands sliding down to hug her hips.

They parted with a gentle sipping sound, and Anna nuzzled against his chest hair.

"Come on," she said. "Let's get into bed."

John nodded in agreement, sliding on his pyjamas as Anna peeled the sheets of the bed back. He felt a frisson of heat low in his body as he realised what could happen next. It had been a long time. And now they were alone. Slowly, he moved to slide into bed, pulling the sheets up over his legs. Anna yawned widely as she snuggled herself down beside him, tucking her head against his shoulder. He slipped his arm around her, drawing her closer, dropping a kiss into her hairline.

"It really been a long day, hasn't it?" she said, letting her eyes drift shut.

"It certainly has," John agreed. "We're not used to this."

"I hope the children sleep through tonight."

"I'm sure they will. I can't see even Grace getting up tonight."

"But she doesn't like sleeping in foreign beds. You know what she's like."

"She'll be fine. Martha and James are with her. And she knows where we are if she does need us."

"I just don't want her to disturb Maeve. She's been kind enough to invite us here. The last thing she'll want are young children tearing about the place."

John chuckled, settling himself more firmly down in his pillows. "Maeve loves children."

"Do you think she loves me?" Anna asked sleepily, sighing contentedly when John moved his hand to the small of her back, pushing her snugly against him. She tangled both of her legs around his left, moulding herself completely to him.

"I'm certain that she loves you," John replied. "_Everyone_ loves you."

"Everyone?"

"Of course. _Especially_ me."

She squealed as he rolled them over quite suddenly, settling her back against the soft bed sheets. Her hands went automatically to his hair, and John bent his head to capture her mouth, kissing her deeply. She responded eagerly, feeling her stomach fluttering with excitement as his large hands traced the curves of her body, slightly wider due to the children that she had given him. Eventually, however, she forced herself to pull away from him, panting hard.

"John, we shouldn't," she said.

"Why not?" he asked her, letting his lips drift over her skin. "It's been a while since we did this."

"You think I don't know that?" she groaned, arching her back slightly as his tongue came to dart across her covered breast. "Six weeks, if my memory is serving me correctly."

"Six very _long_ weeks," he growled, biting down gently against her through the cloth. She gasped again.

"But it's our first night in your cousin's house. And I really am tired. Do you mind if we don't tonight?"

Registering her words, John glanced up. "If you don't want to, of course I don't mind."

She looked guilty. "I know it's been a while. And, believe me, I want to make love with you. I just…I'm not sure if I quite feel up to it tonight. It's all a little strange. I'm not sure I'm quite comfortable enough yet, with your cousin just down the corridor."

"Anna, you don't have to justify yourself," he told her gently, letting go of her and shifting back up so that he could lie on his side next to her. He settled himself down.

Anna frowned when she realised that he was intending on sleeping with his back to her. Tentatively, she leaned over him, peering into his face. "You're not angry, are you?"

"Of course I'm not," he reassured her quickly, before stumbling a little. "I just don't think that it would help me very much if I was to feel you against my front at this moment."

Realisation flooded her, and she flushed. "Oh, I see." She sighed a little, stretching herself out beside him. "Very well, then. If you can't hold me, I'll just hold you."

Two slim arms slipped themselves around his waist, and she buried her head into his back. John couldn't resist reaching down to clasp her hands. Despite the warning twinges in his lower half, he was content. The feel of Anna pressed against him would never grow old.

"Goodnight," she said quietly, nuzzling herself against him.

John reached across to turn off the lamp at his bedside, plunging the room into darkness. "Goodnight, love."

* * *

"Pa, wake up. Wake up!"

Someone was smacking him with little hands. He groaned sleepily, and shielded himself against the small blows. Behind him, he felt Anna stirring, her discontented mumblings filling the air.

"What on earth…?"

"Pa!" The voice was close to his ear now, and he forced his eyes open with the greatest of efforts. It was still dark.

"Martha?" he slurred, feeling Anna pressing herself into the length of him so that she could peer drowsily over his shoulder. "What's the matter?"

"We're in Ireland!" she said. He couldn't see her very well in the darkness, but she didn't sound the slightest bit tired.

"Yes, love, we are," he said. "And you should also still be in bed. What time is it?"

"Early," she said brightly, scrambling onto the bed. "Get up, Pa!"

Anna groaned, stretching right across him to reach for the pocket watch that he had placed on the set of drawers the night before. Even in his drowsy state, John couldn't help but notice the soft press of her breasts against him. He had to work hard to suppress a shudder.

"It's only four," she groaned, dropping it back down.

"Martha, what on earth are you doing up at this time in the morning? Go back to bed, young lady."

Martha gazed at her father as if he was simple.

"Pa," she said, sounding exactly like her mother did when she was exasperated about something. "We have to go out early, otherwise we won't see the faeries and the unicorns! They only come out when it's dark, you said!"

For a moment, both of her parents stared at her incredulously.

"You woke us up so that we can go and search for…faeries?" John said faintly.

Martha clambered clumsily up on him, finding one of his hands and pulling on it. "You promised you'd take me out!"

"Oh, good God," grumbled Anna, pulling the covers over her head.

"Martha, darling," said John, "I can't take you out now. People would wonder what we were doing."

"But you _promised_!"

John hated to see the distress on his eldest daughter's face. He never wanted to be a disappointment to her. He had been a disappointment to far too many people in his life.

"I tell you what," he said. "We'll go out tonight, just when it starts to get dark. Faeries are the liveliest at that time because they've just woken up and they've got the whole night to play. If we went now, we might not see any at all, because they'll be getting sleepy. I promise that we'll go, love, but now isn't the right time."

Martha considered his words for a moment, before nodding. "All right."

"So you'll go back to bed now, like a good girl?"

A frown this time, but still accompanied by a reluctant nod. "Yes."

John nodded, smiling in relief. "Good girl. Let's put you back to bed, then."

"It's all right," came a muffled voice from the sheets. "I'll do it."

John turned to glance at his wife, who emerged from the nest looking sleepy. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," she said. "You don't get enough rest as it is. Stay there. You don't mind your mummy tucking you back in, do you, Martha?"

Martha smiled brightly, wriggling off the bed and extending her arms to her mother as she slid out. Anna hitched her up with a huff, resting her against her hip. "Say night to your pa again."

"Night, Pa," she said softly, and he waved at her, settling back on his elbows as Anna took her out of the room.

"Now, you've got to be quiet," she said in a low voice as they went. "Your pa's cousin is fast asleep in one of these rooms. It wouldn't be very nice if we woke her up, would it?"

Martha shook her head, burying her face against her mother's collar, grasping fistfuls of her nightgown. Anna couldn't resist dropping a kiss against her thick blonde hair, so much like her own. At last, she reached the children's room, and she pushed open the door gently. She breathed a sigh of relief to see that Grace and James were still fast asleep, Grace with her thumb in her mouth. The covers had fallen off them in the night. Gently, Anna moved over to Martha's bed, dropping her onto it. Watching her scramble to get under the covers, Anna smiled. Their eldest really was a spirit full of boundless energy. There was just nothing too adventurous for her.

"Mummy?"

"Yes, my love?"

"Will you come out with me and Pa later?"

"Well, that depends."

"On what?"

Anna smiled lightly. "I don't know." She did, but she didn't think a little girl would really understand the complexity of a mother's emotions. How, sometimes, she felt as if she was an outsider looking in on John and their eldest daughter. Martha might have looked like her, but she was all about her father, wanting him to read to her, following him about the hotel back home, hanging onto his every word. She worshipped the ground that he walked on, and John worshipped her, and while Anna would never begrudge either of them anything, sometimes she felt as though she wasn't quite good enough. In a moment of weakness, she had once confessed her fears to John, spurred on by the cloak of darkness and the intimate feel of him naked against her. He had dismissed them at once, claiming that Martha loved her beyond reason, but it could be disheartening some nights when Martha point-blank refused to go back to sleep without her father.

Martha didn't seem inclined to carry on talking anymore, for she was snuggling herself down in her bed sheets, rolling over onto her side. Anna bent down beside her, smoothing the hair from her cheek and placing a gentle kiss against her skin.

"Go back to sleep, my little darling," she whispered.

"I love you, Mummy," Martha said, closing her eyes.

"I love you too," she returned, feeling her heart swell unbearably in her chest. "So much."

She pulled the sheets back up over Grace and James so that they were covered again, not wanting to risk waking them by bending down to kiss them. God, her children were perfect. It still filled her with awe that she and John had made these little people together, that they were responsible for everything. She had a lot to thank John for, but nothing more than this; for him giving her the greatest gift that he could ever have bestowed upon her.

Satisfied that the children were warm and that Grace wasn't about to wake any time soon, Anna slipped back out of the room, making her way back towards hers and John's. He was lying back down when she entered, though he lifted his head when he heard her close the door quietly behind her.

"She went back all right then?" he murmured as Anna moved back around to her side of the bed, shivering in the cool morning air.

"Yes, she did," she said, wriggling herself back under the covers.

"That girl. I don't know what goes through her head sometimes."

Anna giggled. "She likes her daydreams."

"She likes to be stubborn, too. Just like her mother."

"Excuse me?"

"Well, how many children would doggedly pursue the idea of going out in the pitch black to search for faeries? She's your daughter all right."

"I don't know what you mean," said Anna as John moved closer to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back against him. "She's_ your_ daughter. No one else I know would be up as early as you in a morning. If she was like me, she'd never want to get out of bed."

He smiled against her neck, pulling her even closer. "I love your quick wit, Mrs. Bates."

"I'm glad."

She shifted about for a few seconds as she was wont to do, trying to find a comfortable position, and silence reigned for a while when she was comfortable. John reached his hand out to find hers, gently twining their fingers together.

"This is nice though, isn't it?" he said. "Just the five of us, having a little break together."

"Hmm," was the only answer he received.

He chuckled, kissing her skin. "You're trying to go back to sleep, aren't you?"

"Hmm."

"Do you want me to be quiet?"

"Hmm."

He gathered her as close as he possibly could, pressing himself the entire length of her back, feeling every contour in her body. He allowed silence to reign for a few more moments, content with the feel of her warm body against him. It was a sensation that he would never grow tired of. After being denied of the right to hold her for so long, he knew that he'd never take her for granted. Still, he couldn't stop himself from nuzzling himself against the back of her neck.

"You know," he murmured, kissing her there gently, "we don't have to go back to sleep right now. We could stay awake. We could…reacquaint ourselves with each other. We'd have to be very quiet though."

Gently, he let his spare hand stray to her front, cupping her stomach in his strong palm. He kissed her again.

No response.

"Anna?"

Slowly, he levered himself up on his arm, moving to peer over her, squinting into her face. Her eyes were tightly shut. Her mouth was hanging half-open. Little puffs of breath hit his face in an even cadence. John couldn't help but smile, settling himself back down.

His amorous advances would have to wait. Anna was fast asleep once more.

* * *

**A/N:** More family fluff to come.

I'm trying to create a buffer between chapters, so I'll probably not post again until I've finished writing chapter four.


	3. The First Day

**A/N:** I promised myself that I wouldn't update this again until I'd got the next chapter finished in draft, but I've hit a brick wall with that. I don't expect to update again for a few weeks at the very least.

**Umbrella-ella** offered some suggestions for this chapter when I got stuck, so thank you for that.

Guest review replies are now at the bottom.

* * *

_3. The First Day_

Maeve was up and about early the next morning, bathed and dressed, her room tidied immaculately. Since the war, it had become an even more rigid part of her life. The upstairs corridor was still completely silent when she opened her bedroom door, so she decided to make breakfast before venturing back upstairs to wake her cousin and his wife. She doubted that they got a lie-in very often. It would do them both the world of good to sleep a little longer.

Toast and porridge was on the agenda that morning, and Maeve set about making it with an added spring in her step. It was nice to have the house full of people again. When it was almost done, she loaded up a tray complete with tea pot and cups, and began to make her way back upstairs. A good cup of tea always helped her to wake up in a morning.

Outside the bedroom door that her cousin was sharing with his wife, she paused. She had never burst in on a man and wife in their bedroom before. Good God, she hoped that they were both decent. Still, there was nothing else for it now, so she pushed open the door.

Gentle snores greeted her ears at once. John and Anna were curled up almost as close as it was possible for a man and woman to be curled up together. With relief, Maeve noticed that they were clothed – John's arm was above the quilt, pulling Anna close to him – and she set the tea tray down on the vanity table by the window. The duo didn't stir as she moved around to Anna's side of the bed. She tried not to stare too hard. It was obvious that they were utterly content with each other. John's head was buried in the curve between Anna's neck and shoulder. His hand was protective against her stomach. In that one instant, just from seeing the way that they slept together, Maeve could see just how far the depths of their love went for each other. There was a lump in her throat.

Quickly turning away from the sight, she moved quietly over to the window, pulling open the curtains a little so that a chink of light could burst through. The sunlight hit the duo directly, and Anna began to stir at once, mumbling incoherently under her breath as she brought a hand up to her eyes. Behind her, John stirred, burying his head more pointedly in her shoulder. Maeve couldn't help but smile at the sight.

"Good morning," she said cheerfully. "I've brought you some tea."

At the sound of Maeve's voice, Anna began to wriggle, opening her eyes blearily and trying to smile. John was still holding onto her tightly, and she tried not to shiver too pointedly at the feel of his hot breath ghosting along the back of her neck, making the hairs rise on her body.

"Thank you," she said, her voice scratchy and hoarse with sleep. "That's very kind of you."

"It was nothing," said Maeve, moving to fetch her a cup. "Nothing perks me up in a morning quite like a cup of tea."

John was finally responding next to her, releasing his hold on her and rolling onto his back with a groan. He had his eyes open now, though he still looked sleepy. Anna struggled into a sitting position, accepting the cup gratefully. Maeve was right; a cup of tea was always perfect first thing in a morning.

"What about you, John?" Maeve asked, moving back over to the vanity. "Would you like one as well?"

"If you don't mind," he said. Anna noticed that he looked a little uncomfortable – probably because his cousin had burst into their room without warning and woken them. Neither of them were used to being caught in their nightclothes by anyone but their children, and they had certainly never been caught sleeping in such an intimate position by another adult. Anna was a less embarrassed. She had spent her entire life yearning for John's touch. She didn't care who found them like that. It wasn't as if they'd been doing anything wrong.

John accepted the cup that his cousin passed to him, and Anna frowned lightly. The sun seemed to be high in the sky already. She thought that she'd slept late yesterday, but today it seemed even higher; she couldn't remember the last time that she'd awoken to find it like that.

"What time is it?" she asked, swilling the dregs of her tea around the cup.

Maeve smiled. "It's a little after nine."

At that, both Anna and John's eyes widened, and they exchanged mortified glances.

"After nine?" said Anna faintly.

"My God, I don't think I've slept until this time even once before in my life," said John, sounding equally perturbed. "I don't understand."

"The travelling must have made you more tired than you'd thought," said Maeve. "In any case, it won't do you any harm. I shouldn't think that there are many opportunities for lie-ins in your line of work."

"The last time I had a lie-in was almost six years ago," said Anna, climbing out of bed. "Back when –" She stopped short then, and Maeve detected a faint blush on her cheeks. She frowned, but decided not to question it – it was probably something that she'd never want to know, a matter for only man and wife to share.

"Have you heard the children?" said John quickly, clambering out of bed too. Maeve hadn't failed to notice the pointed change in conversation.

Shaking her head, she bustled back over to the tea tray. "No, I haven't yet. They're probably as tired as anyone."

"I'll go and check on them," said Anna, pulling a dressing gown over her nightdress. "I'll get them dressed quick."

"Oh, there's no need for such formalities," said Maeve. "Breakfast will be done in just a couple of minutes. Just gather them together and you can worry about getting ready later. We're all family here."

It was nice to hear her say so; Anna wanted to make a good impression on John's cousin. For some reason, it made her feel as though she was getting his mother's approval. John had told her on countless occasions that his mother would have absolutely adored her – indeed, she _had_ adored her right from the minute that she had met her, often writing and pestering him about the _lovely lass_ that held him in such high regard. Still, it would have been nice if she _could_ have known her mother-in-law properly, sharing stories of John's childhood and helping to cook dinner. And it would have been one of the most wonderful feelings in the world to have announced her pregnancies to her.

She quickly shook her sad thoughts away, slipping out of the room towards the children's. When she peered around the door, she found all three of them still fast asleep, a miracle in itself. The travelling really must have been more tiring than she'd initially thought it could be.

Striding into the room, she bent down beside her eldest, passing a hand softly over her head.

"Martha, my love," she said softly. "Wake up, come on. It's breakfast time."

The little girl whined as she felt her mother's hand becoming more insistent, wriggling away from it and burying her face in the pillow. Anna chuckled, pulling her closer.

"Come on," she coaxed. "It's morning now, and we've got lots planned for the day."

With an exaggerated whine, Martha finally turned back to her mother. Her eyes were still sleepy. "Are we going to out today?"

Anna smiled widely, clambering to her feet. "Yes, we are."

And how lovely the outing was going to be, surrounded by her family.

* * *

As soon as they were ready to go, they headed out. Martha skipped a little in front, singing some sort of silly rhyme as she went, and the others followed a little behind. Anna was pushing a pram. Maeve had shown it to them earlier that morning, having fetched it from the loft, insisting that they use it – after all, she'd said, it wasn't going to be used by her. Anna had accepted gratefully, and now Grace sat inside, pointing at everything, babbling incoherent words as she went. James was quieter, his large brown eyes staring round as he held onto his father, taking little steps, trying to match his father's. Maeve was carrying a picnic basket over her arm.

A picnic on the village green was the chosen activity for the day, and Anna was very much looking forward to it. She and John had shared a few picnics over their time, and she had thoroughly enjoyed every single one of them – although their picnics did tend to veer off towards dangerous territory, always ending with a hurriedly packed basket and a mad dash to the nearest private place that they could find.

_Stop those thoughts right there, Anna Bates_, she told herself quickly. _Today is going to be family-orientated picnic._

Yes, a family-orientated one. She couldn't wait for it. There hadn't been many chances for some proper quality time as a family over the last few months, and this was a wonderful way to rectify it.

From her side, Maeve chuckled, breaking her out of her thoughts.

"Martha is in a bright mood this morning," she commented, watching the little girl throw the ball that she had been allowed to carry up into the air.

John winced as she missed it completely on the way down. "She's going faery hunting later."

"Faery hunting?"

"John has told her lots of stories about faeries and unicorns. Martha is fascinated by them." Anna's eyes were twinkling as she glanced at her husband.

"How lovely for her!"

"I just hope she's not disappointed when she doesn't see any."

Anna giggled. "Martha's never been disappointed. She'll just make you take her out again."

"Perhaps you can pretend to be a faery from a distance. Then she'll be satisfied."

"What, aren't I faery-like enough up close?"

The two of them laughed together, their twins joining in at the sound, though clearly they had no idea what was going on. Maeve took the opportunity to take the two of them in, from their dancing eyes to the cheeky grins they were exchanging. It was at times like these, when she saw such obvious love and devotion, that she missed her Harold the most. But now was not the time to start feeling sorry for herself. So she joined in the laughter, and soon all three adults were chatting again. Anna and John really were marvellous company. Anna was incredibly polite, always eager to hear more about the place where she lived, asking questions and cooing over the beautiful scenery. John was still as quiet as ever, studiously cataloguing her every move and indulging his son's request to be carried a short way as he tugged on his trouser leg and babbled. They were both quick-witted too, exchanging teasing remarks with twinkling eyes and affectionate smiles. It left Maeve in no doubt that they were an incredibly happy family. Which she was very glad for. Vera had never made Johnny look like this, so contented with his lot in life, so relaxed in his countenance.

Anna Bates had been a wonderful influence on him after all.

* * *

The picnic had been a huge success. The sandwiches had been devoured, the lemonade had been drunk, and the cake for afters had been devoured within minutes. Martha had sat still long enough to eat her share, before bounding to her feet, full of energy. She was currently playing ball with her pa again, who looked a little worse for wear as he limped after yet another stray throw. Grace was busy watching them, clapping her hand and squealing happily whenever the ball flew past her. She had tried to join in once, toddling on little legs and shadowing her father's every move, and she had spent a happy few minutes in his arms until Martha had complained loudly that she was spoiling the game. Undeterred, she had pottered around for a few more minutes when John had put her down, until she had obviously grown tired of her sister's whining, wobbling back over to her mother and falling into her welcoming arms. James, however, was sharing none of his sister's energy. He had grown grouchy as the picnic had worn on, and was currently lying on his stomach on the picnic blanket, his eyes blinking sleepily. Anna ran a loving hand through his thick hair, clucking her tongue. Maeve turned from watching her cousin apologising profusely to a man whose dog Martha had just hit with her poor aim to the little lad.

"Poor little dove," she said. "Is he all right?"

Anna brushed her hand across his forehead. He whined, swiping at her grumpily.

"I think so," she said. "He's just tired again. He gets like that more so than either of his sisters."

"Well, it's been a disorientating couple of days for him."

"He was ill just before we came, too. He's probably still recovering from that."

"Nothing too serious, I hope."

"No, not really. Just a rather bad cold. The seaside is beautiful in summer, but it can be a pain the rest of the year. I was up with him a few nights because he wasn't sleeping."

"So you must be just as exhausted."

She shrugged, grabbing hold of Grace's hand as she poked at her cheek. "I'm used to early starts. And John was a great help too. He'd get up with him and read stories so that I could get a few hours."

"Sounds like you've got it all worked out perfectly." Maeve sounded somewhat wistful.

"I suppose we have, yes."

At that moment, they were interrupted by another stray ball, and John hobbled up to them, looking decidedly flushed and tired out.

"I think this game will be the death of me," he announced, bending down to retrieve the ball with a groan.

Anna laughed. "You sit down. I'll take over for a while."

"Are you sure?" he asked, even as he sank gratefully to his side with a groan.

"I'm sure," she said. "Here, take hold of Grace, and keep an eye on James."

Concern filled his expression as he looked down on his son. "Is he all right?"

"I'm sure he is. It's just the cold, John."

He nodded, opening his arms to take Grace. Anna smiled as they swapped places, and John pressed a kiss against her dark hair, breathing in her baby scent. She wriggled and giggled, fingers curling rather painfully into his hair. Anna laughed, then picked up the ball as Martha bounded up.

"Pa, what are you doing?" she whined.

"Pa's taking a rest now. He's tired. Will Mummy do?"

Martha's eyes brightened. "Yes! Will you play bilbocatch?"

John laughed out loud as Anna's eyes widened, and she was pulled away to play, Martha now clutching her little ball and cup.

"And what's supposed to be funny?" asked Maeve.

John was still chortling as he placed Grace down on the picnic blanket so that she could sit up and watch her mother and her sister. "It's Martha's favourite game, and it's an absolute nightmare. I know from personal experience."

"It doesn't sound so bad."

"Oh, it might not sound bad. But I faced lesser dangers when I was in the army. Martha is lethal. Last time she had it, she smacked me so hard in the face with the ball that it bruised."

"Heavens! All that from a wooden cup and an ball on elastic?"

"Martha doesn't do anything by halves."

"I suppose Anna will have to hope that she's feeling more tired now that you've been playing with her."

"She's always full of boundless energy. I can hardly keep up at times." There was something wistful in his tone.

"John, are you all right?"

He shook his head, giving her a small smile. "Yes, I'm fine." There was still something odd in his tone, but Maeve knew better than to pry. Years may have passed by like seconds, but she still knew that he would have evolved from a proud, stubborn boy to a proud, stubborn man. She watched from the corner of her eye as he passed a hand gently over his son's dark hair, his brow furrowed. And then, seemingly with a great effort, he forced a smile back to his lips.

"The picnic was wonderful," he said. "It was a lovely idea to come down to the park. The children are enjoying it immensely."

"I thought they would," said Maeve. "This park is one of God's finest."

"It's certainly beautiful."

There were a few moments of silence. John spent them grasping at Grace's little fists and swaying them from side to side while she giggled. And then he turned his brown eyes back on her.

"How have you been coping?" he asked tentatively. "Since…since Harold…?"

This time, it was Maeve's turn to shut down her expression. "Fine," she said quickly. "I mean, it's been hard, of course, but it's getting better with time."

"I'm sorry I couldn't make it over for the funeral," he said quietly.

"Don't be silly. It's a long way to travel, and money can be tight. I wasn't able to get over for your mother's. And do you hold that against me?"

"Of course not."

"There you are then. I had my neighbours to help me through it."

John nodded, turning his attention contemplatively to Anna and Martha. Martha had apparently already decided that she wanted to change games, for Anna was semi-jogging after a stray throw of her other ball. She was garnering some strange looks from the other people in the park. John couldn't help but smile a little.

"You chose wisely there, Johnny," said Maeve, following his gaze.

John's smiled widened just slightly. "It wasn't really a case of choice, Maeve. It just happened."

"Well, it did you good. And look at all the good that came out of it."

She sounded wistful again. John felt an ache in his chest for her. He had thought his chances of fatherhood had been over long before he'd met Anna, with his disastrous marriage to Vera and the state that he'd been in. He'd never really contemplated children at all until Anna had entered his life, and even then he hadn't liked to think too hard about it. It wasn't until they'd been reunited after his prison sentence that they'd both begun to hope, and even there had been some doubt, it _had_ eventually happened, completing them in the most perfect of ways. John couldn't imagine the pain and heartbreak that had to be endured when each and every month, the chance of a beautiful family had never materialised, until hope had faded into non-existence.

"She's good for you," Maeve continued. "Everyone always said Vera was bad news, but Anna seems to be the complete opposite in every way."

John winced at his former wife's name. Even now, years on, he couldn't think of her without feeling the old hatred for the things that she had put him through. Neither he nor Anna liked to dwell on that aspect of their lives. It had helped to shape them, and it had made them even stronger as a united duo, but it didn't pain him any less to know how much suffering he'd caused his beautiful wife. Still, they were all right. Anna _was_ good for him. No one knew that more than he did. He watched her again, watched the way that she carefully threw the ball to her daughter, encouraging her with gentle words. Her face was flushed, her hat a little skewered. Martha's unending energy was obviously weighing on Anna too, but the smile on her face was wide and honest, and John knew that she was loving every moment of it. He wished that he could go and join them, but his leg wouldn't permit it yet. It was still recovering. And he had his other two babies to look after. James looked on the verge of sleep, but Grace was still fidgeting happily. John picked up a rattle and offered it to her in the palm of his hand. Her own came out to touch it. John marvelled at how tiny her hand still looked compared to his, and he felt a wave of love rush through him. This was his family. This was the life that he and Anna had made for themselves. It still struck him as though it was the first time. Maeve had fallen silent beside him, playing with the fringes of the blanket that they were sitting on. Slowly, John held the rattle out to her.

"Here," he said. "Do you want to play with Grace?"

"Will she let me?"

"Well, you'll never know if you don't try," he said with a small smile. "Come on."

Returning with a smile of his own, Maeve took hold of the rattle and shook it gently. Grace's eyes lit up at it, and she struggled in her father's arms. John chuckled, then released her gently. She toddled forward on little legs, hands outstretched, ready to grab. Maeve laughed when she felt the tiny fingers close around the instrument, the little girl exploring it by touch curiously. John laughed when she poked curiously at the tiny bells, feeling a feeling of peace spread throughout him. He might have been feeling a little sorry for himself with his inability to keep up with the demands of his children, but there was still nothing on earth more precious than this.

His eyes wandered towards Anna, watching as she stopped to catch Martha about the waist, smiling at her squeals of delight.

Life couldn't be more perfect.

* * *

They decided to have an early dinner so that John could take Martha out on her faery hunt. The little girl talked about nothing else through the meal, heedless to Anna's gentle reminders that her food would go cold if she didn't start eating more quickly. James had perked up a little, though he still seemed woozy, and Maeve shooed both Anna and John away from the table when they were all finished.

"You go and get the children ready for bed," she said. "I'll tidy up here."

"Let me help," Anna protested. "Just as soon as I'm done with the twins, I'll be right back down."

"I keep telling you, you're a guest here."

"I don't mind in the slightest. You shouldn't have to clean up after us all."

"Can I go get ready, Pa?" Martha asked excitedly, bouncing in her chair. "Please?"

"When you've eaten your carrots," he said with a smile. "I'll fetch my coat, and then we can go."

Martha ate the carrots in record speed, before leaping from the table and running as fast as her little legs would carry her up the stairs. John winced at the racket she was making, but Maeve only chuckled.

"She's a lively one," she said.

"And don't we know it." John stood to excuse himself, leaning down to scoop Grace up into his arms, who wriggled and giggled, her arms coming up around his neck. Anna followed suit, bending to pick up James, who was more listless, his head lolling against her shoulder. She caught sight of John's worried frown again, and tried to smile as reassuringly as she could, jerking her head to let him know that he should lead them out of the room.

"I'll be as quick as I can," she said, turning back to Maeve, who waved it away.

"Your little 'uns are more important. You concentrate on getting them all settled."

Anna smiled gratefully, then followed her husband out of the room. She caught him up when he was hovering by the spare bedroom's door, looking more than a little helpless. He tried to muster a smile when he saw her, but she knew that it wasn't quite reaching his eyes.

"Come on," she said. "You drop Gracie off in there and start getting yourself ready to go. I'll get them sorted out."

"Are you absolutely sure?" he murmured. "I don't mind waiting a while to help you."

"Don't be silly. Martha's waiting. You'll need to have her back before her bedtime, so the earlier you go, the better it is."

"I'm just worried about James," he confided. "He was fine yesterday. He looks like he's relapsing."

"John, it's just a cold. He might be relapsing. But colds sometimes do. There's nothing that can be done about it. And that's all it is. A cold. It's nothing more serious than that."

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I just feel so useless. Like I should be able to _do_ something, but I can't."

"Hey, what's brought this on?" Anna asked, setting James down on his bed, turning to face him with her hands planted on her hips.

John shrugged. "I don't know. I'm just being silly."

"Yes, you are," she said with a smile, hooking Grace out of his arms and planting her on the bed too. "Now go on, go and get your coat."

He nodded, and she followed him, casting a glance over her shoulder to make sure that the twins were going to stay put. They were. Once at their own bedroom, Anna foraged around for the right things she needed to get them ready for bed, and John headed over to the wardrobe to pull on his coat. When Martha bounded into the room mere seconds later, carrying her coat over her arm and wearing an expression of utter anticipation, Anna and John both looked up at the interruption.

"My, my," commented Anna, leaving the nightgowns that she'd been sorting and making her way towards her daughter. "You certainly are eager."

"Yes!" squealed Martha. "We're going to find faeries, Mummy!"

"I know you are," said Anna affectionately, bending down to adjust the girl's shoes properly. "I'm sure you'll see lots."

John slipped his coat on. "We can't be out too long, Martha. We don't want to keep you up too late."

Evidently his gentle warnings went straight over her head, for she was hopping about excitedly from foot to foot and making it very difficult for Anna to adjust her coat properly. Anna shot him an exasperated, affectionate look over her shoulder, before lightly chiding her to stand still while she fastened it.

"We don't want you to catch a chill," she said. "It's not very warm outside, my little love."

"Don't worry," John murmured, coming up behind her, "I'll keep her safe."

"I know you will." Anna groaned a little, then pulled herself up from her squat. Martha bounded right in front of her, reaching out with a little hand.

"Mummy, come on!" she sang, rising up on her tiptoes. "We're going now!"

Anna caught her hand and brought it to her lips. "Mummy's not coming."

Martha stared as though she was hearing an exotic language. "What?"

"Mummy's staying here."

"But why?"

"Well, Grace and James need putting to bed soon. They've had a tiring day. Mummy needs to be there to tuck them in."

Martha pouted, frowning. "But that's not fair! I want you to come with _me_!"

"Don't be selfish," Anna admonished gently. "I need to be here for your brother and your sister."

John stepped in, moving to stand beside Anna. "Mummy will come with you next time."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

John took hold of her hand. "Come on then, let's go."

"I'm sorry," Anna murmured.

"You have no need to apologise for anything," said John, bending to kiss her chastely. "I'll see you later."

"Bye," she said, following him to the door. "I'll get back to the twins now."

He shot her a wink and Martha waved. Anna's heart swelled as she watched them walk downstairs. She couldn't love them more.

* * *

After popping his head in on Maeve to let her know that they were going, John made his way outside. Martha's little arm was raised as they walked along, so that her hand could stay in his. The sun had just started to set, streaks of bright orange rushing across the sky, bathing the world in a beautiful glow. It touched the tops of the green trees and illuminated the pretty flowers. It was at times like this that John missed Ireland. But they were happy in Yorkshire. They had a wonderful life there.

Most of the journey to the edge of the little forest was completed in silence. Martha was obviously thinking hard about something, her earlier zeal somewhat muted. John wasn't too worried. Although Martha was nearly always happy and enthusiastic, she was prone to periods of contemplation that went beyond her years – a trait picked up after spending too much time copying him, according to Anna.

"_Honestly, your brooding is a bad influence on all of them," _she'd teased him one night. _"They're all going to be introverted, impossible people when they're older."_

"_Oh, really?"_ John had growled in reply. _"And is their mother's sunny disposition going to suddenly disappear from their countenance?"_

Anna had giggled, especially when he'd moved to hover above her. She'd recognised the look in his eyes immediately. _"I don't know. It might."_

"_Then perhaps we should have another little one who you can keep safe from my terrible influence,"_ he'd said, and then he'd kissed her and she'd shifted her body and all coherency had been lost.

They were at the mouth of the forest now. John shook his head, feeling the flush creep up on his neck. It wasn't productive to be having such thoughts right then. Instead, he glanced down at his daughter, who was now frowning a little. He could tell that she wanted to say something, so he stayed quiet. Experience with Martha had taught him that it was best to wait until she was ready, otherwise she'd be stubborn – stubbornness from her mother, John always joked. Luckily, he didn't have to wait long.

"Pa?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think we'll see any faeries?"

John tightened his hold on her hand. "Well, that all depends."

"On what?"

"On how quiet you are."

"I can be quiet!"

"I don't doubt that," he chuckled. "Now, I said before that we can't stay too long. Mummy wouldn't want us to be out when it gets too late, otherwise she'll worry. And we don't want that, do we?"

Martha shook her head, looking up at him with bright eyes. "Why didn't Mummy come?"

"She told you. Because Grace and James need putting to bed."

"Maeve could have done it."

John chuckled. "It wouldn't have been fair to leave her to look after them all on her own."

"Mummy looked after them when you were away, _and _she looked after me too! That's more people."

"Yes, well, your mummy _wants_ to look after you when I'm away."

"And Maeve doesn't want to?"

"Oh, I'm quite sure that she'd like to look after you."

Silence for a few moments. The moon was large in the sky. It was quite cold, their breaths puffing out in front of them. John hoped that Martha had enough layers on. He didn't want her to catch a cold. Her eyes were cast down, watching where she put her little feet. She didn't seem the slightest bit unnerved by the rustle of the branches or the whispering of the leaves. She was braver than he was. He chuckled silently at the thought, then caught sight of her face through the silver light that filtered between the trees. She looked sad.

"Martha, love?" he asked, alarmed, "what's wrong?"

She glanced up at him, chewing on her lip in a way that was reminiscent of her mother – Anna pulled the exact same face when she was worrying about something.

"Will you have to leave again, Pa?" she asked him quietly, scuffing her shoe against the soil and following the scattering of the loose little grains with her eyes.

"What makes you say that?" he frowned.

Little shoulders rose and fell. Blonde hair danced around her shoulders.

"Something must have brought this on," he said.

"Is here a good spot?" She'd come to a halt, not looking at him. For someone so young, she seemed to be carrying the weight of the world with her. Something no doubt Anna would say had come from him.

"I think so, yes. Shall we sit down?"

Martha nodded silently, plopping herself down amongst the foliage. John winced – her dress was going to be filthy by the time they got back – and slowly worked himself down next to her, using his cane to keep himself stable. He felt a hot wave of shame wash over him as Martha watched him. If there was one thing that he still abhorred about his life, it was letting others see him weak. He had grown to accept the fact that Anna would see him in moments of weakness – and indeed she was never disgusted by them – but he had promised himself that his children would never see him struggling. Even if his leg was screaming in pain, he would carry on whatever he was doing for them, whether it was carrying them in his arms, or taking part in one of their imaginative games. Grace and James weren't old enough to understand anything, but Martha was at an age now when she was beginning to pick up on things. She had yet to ask just why her pa needed to use a stick, simply accepting the fact that it was a part of his life, but selfish or not, he didn't want to ruin her image of him as a capable man with his inability to sit down on the ground without support.

When they were both settled, John stretched out his bad leg in front of him, reaching out to wrap his arm around Martha's frame and pull her closer. She came willingly enough, snuggling down into his warm arms and resting her head against him. Once more, John found himself marvelling at her. His first born child. Sometimes, when he and Anna had been married for a couple of years without any sign of anything changing, he had wondered if it was simply not meant to be. In his mind, he had even begun to accept the fact, until Anna had missed her time of the month. When her pregnancy had been confirmed, he had been overjoyed. Anna was finally getting what she had always longed for. They _both_ were. It was an exhilarating thought that the physical intimacy that they shared with each other behind closed doors, the most private expression of their love and devotion to each other, had finally manifested itself in a very public showing. And now they had three children between them. And he couldn't be happier.

Most of the time, at least. He couldn't stand it when one of his family – be it one of the children or Anna herself – was hurting. It made him feel powerless.

"Now, keep your eyes peeled," he told her as they sat together. She nodded against his chest, her eyes fixed on a point hidden almost out of sight between a tree and a thick bush. The wind blew gently, and he shivered again.

Martha began fidgeting. He glanced down.

"Do you want to tell me what's wrong now?" he said softly.

Her bright blue eyes swept over him once, before returning to the spot that she'd decided that she was going to watch. Her little fingers plucked at the coarse blades of grass.

"Will you be going away again, Pa?" she asked again at last, and her voice was so small that it almost broke his heart. Gently, he drew her closer to him, pressing a kiss against her temple.

"Why do you ask?" he said.

She shrugged. Perhaps he really was to blame for her tendency to be brooding. She shouldn't be worrying about such things at her age.

"Well, there must be a reason why."

She chewed on her lip, glancing up at him with eyes so similar to Anna's, before dropping her voice to a whisper. "I missed you."

His heart swelled. "I know, love. And I missed you too."

"Why did you have to go?"

"I didn't want to go. I would much rather spend all of my time with you and Grace and James and Mummy. But it was important. You like living in the hotel, don't you?"

Martha nodded.

"Well, that's why I had to go away. I had to sort out lots of things to make sure that everything was fine."

"But you were away for _forever_!"

"It was necessary." John didn't really know why he was trying to explain himself to a little girl who wouldn't understand the importance of keeping their hotel at all.

"It made Mummy very sad."

This took John by surprise. "What?" Anna had always missed him on his trips away, just as he'd missed her, but he couldn't imagine her being any less practical.

Still, Martha's eyes were full of innocent honesty, and he knew that she was too young to lie about such things. "Her eyes were always sad. Even when she tried to be happy. And she was crying one day."

"_What?"_ he said more urgently than he intended, and Martha looked startled.

"Pa?" she said.

He tried to control his short burst of panic, not wanting to make her worry. "When was Mummy crying?"

Martha's little face contorted in an effort to remember. "I don't know. One day. She didn't know I was there. But I know it was because she missed you! I _know_!"

There was a slightly hysterical note in his daughter's voice now, and John kissed her temple again. It seemed that the faery-watching had been postponed for the moment. "How do you know that, love?"

"Because Mummy's never sad when you're with her, _never_!"

Martha's innocent observation made his heart skip a beat in his chest. He hoped every day that he was making Anna as happy as she always made him, and to hear their daughter announce it in such a straightforward way when she was so young made him feel like he'd done something right in all the years of wrong that he'd given her. Still, he decided to err on the side of caution.

"Are you sure Mummy was crying because I wasn't there? Are you sure she wasn't crying because something else had happened?"

Martha's blonde curls bounced as she vigorously shook her head. "It was because she missed you, I know it! She'd look at the settee where you always sit with her and she'd look so sad. She still played with us lots, but she was very sad anyway."

Perhaps the old fears had surfaced. They had barely spent any time apart since his incarceration all those years ago, and they had certainly never spent more than a week without each other. The trips to London had been trying at first when he had returned to his position as valet, and with her new position as lady's maid, but they had managed knowing that it would soon be over. A month had been infinitely worse than just a week, and he himself had found himself on the edge of despair some nights, wishing that he could hold her in his arms. She'd had their beautiful children to keep her occupied, but perhaps it had still been too reminiscent of the long nights she had spent alone in a cold bed.

He wasn't really surprised that Anna hadn't mentioned it to him. She had been the picture of happiness since his return, and they had spent two happy weeks getting ready for their trip together, laughing and loving as they always had. Of course, there had been no opportunity to make love between being so swept up in the hectic rota and the demands of their family, but there had been plenty of kisses and little touches that had simply reaffirmed their joy at being reunited. He had never once guessed that Anna had been harbouring an intense sadness.

"So, will you have to go away again, Pa?"

His daughter's question shook him from his thoughts, and he glanced down at her. She was peering into the gathering gloom again, pretending to be interested in looking for the flash of a tiny winged creature. He sighed.

"I can't promise that I won't have to, love."

Martha's face fell.

"But what if I promise not to leave for as long again? Will that be all right?"

The little girl considered his words for a moment. Then, slowly, she nodded. Relief flooded his body at his daughter compliancy.

"I do have something to ask you, though," he said.

"What, Pa?" Now Martha's eyes were bright.

"Well," he said, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "if I promise to not leave for so long, will you promise not to tell your mummy that we talked about this?"

"Why?"

"Because it's a secret between you and me."

"A secret?" Martha's eyes were glowing at the prospect of something so exciting.

"That's right."

"Do secrets mean I'm grown up?"

John laughed aloud, finding her small hand. It was simply dwarfed in his. "I hope not, love. You're still my little girl for now. Now, come on, let's get on with what we came here to see."

Martha nodded eagerly, settling down beside him and glancing in every possible direction. "Will they be here soon?"

"I don't know. We'll have to wait and see."

"Can you tell me a story while we do?"

"Well, they might hear us, and that might scare them away."

Martha pouted. "What if we're as quiet as mice, like Mummy said yesterday?"

"Only if we _are_ that quiet." Internally, John had to smirk at his daughter. Yes, Anna could protest all she wanted, but Martha had inherited most of her stubbornness from her strong-willed mother. She always had a solution to everything, no matter what it was. "What sort of story do you want to hear?"

"A story about faeries, of course!"

Of course. John hid a smile. Martha rarely wanted to hear about anything that wasn't mythological and exciting. Anna had often joked that they would have a world explorer for a daughter one day, famous throughout the lands.

"_She's inquisitive enough about everything to be world-class,"_ she'd said.

"_Yes, and we know where she gets that inquisitiveness from, don't we?"_ John had joked, wrapping her in his arms. _"An explorer for a daughter, and a part-time private investigator for a wife. I have quite the exciting family."_

She'd smacked his arm good-naturedly at his insinuation that she could be nosy, and John's smile widened at the memory. But Martha was still staring up at him expectantly, so he quickly arranged his expression into one more serious, and began to speak. "Very well, my girl, but you're going to have to listen hard."

Another enthusiastic nod.

"And not interrupt."

A third.

"And make sure you keep your eyes peeled for those pesky faeries. They're lightning quick."

Martha giggled again, snuggling further into his jacket and, quietly, John began to speak. He told epic stories of the faery queen and the adventures she went on, of the day she met a human man; he told stories about the two of them joining forces and the human being completely in awe of her. He told stories about them fighting off an evil dragon. Martha listened to each offering with rapt attention, her blue eyes shining with utter exhilaration at the stories that her father was reciting to her. She mostly forgot about watching for faeries, so caught up in her father's story telling was she, and when they decided to return back home, it was without a single glimpse of the mysterious creatures.

As John carried Martha in his arms as best he could, he decided that it hadn't been a wasted trip at all.

* * *

The trip back to the house was uneventful, and it was a relief to step inside the front door, feeling the warm air hit his face. Dropping his cane by the front door to be picked up properly later, he made his way towards the sitting room. He found Maeve there alone, sitting with a book in her hands, the warmth of the fire radiating out and chasing the cold right out of his bones. At the sound of the interruption, Maeve turned around, a wide grin taking over her face.

"There you are!" she said. "I was beginning to wonder where you'd got to."

"Where's Anna?" he asked her.

"She's in the bedroom. She was a little tired, I think. She only went up a couple of minutes ago, just to get changed. She'll be back down in a few minutes."

"Tired?" John glanced worriedly at the clock. "It's still early."

"Well, I'm sure it's nothing to worry about. You've had a hectic few weeks. She's probably still adjusting."

"I suppose you're right," said John, but he wasn't convinced. "Anyway, I'll be back down soon. I just want to let Anna know that we're back safely. And this little one needs to be tucked in snug for the night."

Maeve's eyes softened at the sight of Martha with her head lolled against her father's shoulder, her eyes barely open.

"Of course," she said, turning back to her needlework. I'll make you a cup of tea when you come back down. You must be chilled to the bone. It'll warm you right back up."

"That would be lovely. Thank you."

He slipped back out of the room then, panting slightly as he heaved Martha up higher. Tackling the stairs after a long day on his leg was going to be torture, but he gritted his teeth and pushed himself forward, careful to keep his balance at all times. It was slow work, but he doubted that Martha had noticed, for her head had slid right into the crook of his neck now. Her arms were clinging less tightly. She was clearly on the verge of sleep. Slowly, he made his way along the landing. The light was on in their room. He paused for a moment to rearrange Martha, then pushed open the door.

Anna turned around at once. She was in the midst of unbuttoning her dress. She relaxed when she saw who it was, a smile brightening her features.

"There you are," she cooed, moving forward to greet them. "I was beginning to worry!"

"There was no need to," he said. "Back home safe and sound, in time for madam's bedtime."

"Madam looks like she's been rolling in the grass," said Anna, as Martha giggled sleepily. "She's got mud all over her dress."

John winced. "Yes, about that…"

"Honestly, I think you just like causing more work for poor old me to do," she sniffed disapprovingly, though her eyes were twinkling. "Come on, give her here. You go and put your feet up. You must be exhausted."

"I can help you," he protested, but she shook her head, taking Martha into her own arms. The little girl complied willingly, snuggling herself down in her mother's arms.

"It's fine, honestly. I won't be too long."

"All right then, if you're completely sure. I think I'll head over to the bathroom to freshen up a little."

Anna nodded. "And tomorrow, this little one can have a bath. Don't think I haven't noticed the grass stains on her knees, John Bates."

He chuckled as she brushed past him, all ruffled bravado, and then turned in the direction of the bathroom. He spent a few minutes splashing water on his face and running a wet hand through his hair before stripping down to just his trousers while he ran a damp cloth over his upper body. It was sweet relief, to have the cold water against his skin, and he luxuriated in the feeling for a few more minutes before reluctantly replacing his undershirt. He gathered the rest of his discarded clothes and made his way back towards the bedroom.

Upon entering, he found Anna already back, standing as she finished tying her hair into its neat braid. John was once again struck by her beauty, even more so now, with Martha's words ringing in his ears. Throwing his clothes down onto the bed, he moved towards her, enveloping her in his arms as soon as he was close enough, pressing his front firmly against her back, his left hand moving to span against her stomach, his right gently tilting her chin around so that he had access to her mouth, which he covered gently. After several long moments of simply brushing their lips chastely against each other's, John allowed his tongue to swipe just gently over her bottom lip. Anna granted him entry at once, and he savoured her taste as he explored her slowly, deeply. Her own hand snaked up to the back of his neck, pulling his head more firmly down. She was trembling a little in his arms.

John wished that it could last forever, but too soon for his liking, the need for air became too great. Reluctantly, he pulled away from her, leaving one last staccato kiss against her surprised mouth.

"What was that for?" she breathed, and he was pleased to see that she had flushed pink.

"Oh, nothing," he said innocently. "Just wanted to say hello to my wife."

"Well, hello," she said, leaning up to kiss his chin. He smiled at the feel of her lips lingering against his skin, before she pulled away with a decidedly mischievous look. "Martha told me that you didn't see any faeries or unicorns out there in the forest."

He sighed, pretending to be downhearted. "Yes, that's right. I was so certain that I would. But it turns out that she was hiding in a little room in the village all along."

Anna giggled, taking hold of the hand still on her stomach and entwining their fingers together. "You daft beggar."

"I did learn something while I was out there, though."

"Oh? And what might that be?"

He smirked, pressing a kiss against her ear. "I'm afraid I can't tell you yet."

Anna's eyes widened. "And why not?"

"I'd be betraying that daughter of yours' trust if I told you."

Anna huffed. "I see how this is. I'm being left out by my own husband now, am I? It's going to be like father, like daughter when it comes to keeping secrets, is it?"

He chuckled, squeezing the hand that was wrapped around his. "You'll find out soon enough, I promise. I just need a little time to think."

She frowned at him, obviously curious, before deciding to let it go for now. "Yes, well. I do hope you're going to make it up to me."

There was just the right lilt to her voice, and he shivered a little, letting his hand drift lower. "I promise to."

"You could always do it now." Anna's words lingered in the air for a moment, and she hastened to explain. "The children are in bed. I feel awake enough."

He breathed hard into her hair. "There's nothing I'd like more."

"I can sense a but coming."

He sighed. "But we're only supposed to be changing into our night things. The kettle's on downstairs. Maeve's waiting."

"And she'll be wondering where we are."

"I don't want it to be rushed."

"Honestly, you've changed your mind a lot since yesterday," she pouted, but she was smiling. "Go on, then. There's always later."

"I know," he said, and felt the old twist of guilt that she had wasted so much of her life waiting for him. "I do love you."

Her hand came up to his hair, pushing the locks back. "I know. Now, come on, let's get back downstairs."

She placed a chaste kiss against his mouth and pulled away, moving to open their bedroom door. He watched her for a moment, then followed her, catching hold of her hand.

For whatever reason, Anna had been upset, and he hated that. They would talk about what had made her sad, and he would do everything in his power to make sure that it never bothered her again. But he didn't want to simply charge in there and start asking questions. She deserved all the happiness that he could possibly give her. So, he was making it his mission to treat her this holiday, to make her feel all the love that he felt for her, to give her the joy that she gave to him.

He had never been more determined about anything.

* * *

**A/N:** The bilbocatch mentioned here is basically cup and ball, where the player has a little ball tied onto elastic, which is attached to the cup, and they have to try to get the ball into the cup.

**Guest 1** – Heh, Martha is quite fun to deal with, but the twins can be pains because they're younger. Anyway, it's nice to know that you're enjoying it. I hope you continue to do so. Thank you for leaving a review.

**Jo** – I hope you like this update. Thanks for reviewing. :)

**Guest 2** – Here's the next chapter. Yes, I'll still be writing chapter five, I just won't be touching it again until the next chapter is done, so I thought I'd erase it from my bio for now. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the next chapter, and thank you for your nice comments.

**K** – I've struggled with both the descriptions and the dialogue in this, so thank you for letting me know that you enjoyed them. :)

**Guest 3** – I'm sorry for being so slow lately, but I'm struggling quite a lot at the moment, and I'm not spending nearly as much time writing as I used to. I'll be continuing this 'fic until it's finished though, so just bear with me and I'll get there one day. :) Still, your support is very nice to have, so thank you. :)

**manut **– Glad you like it, thanks for reviewing!


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